


Against the Wall

by jaimistoryteller



Series: Baker Street Polyamory [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, OC-Cancer, OC-Child Abuse, OC-Death, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyfidelity, Post-The Reichenbach Fall, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John realizes something is up, Sherlock's been dead six months and Mycroft is still coming around to see him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Passing Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Thank you to Amythe3lder and NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for the assistance on getting the plot line worked out by reading my babbly message and asking lovely questions. You two are awesome!
> 
> Folks kept asking who John was with first for Baker Street Polyamory so here it is, how the trio began

_John’s POV_  
It was nearly six months after the Fall that he realizes something is wrong with the situation. Firstly, all of Sherlock’s things have been left in the flat. Then there is the fact that Mycroft has continued to pay Sherlock’s portion of the rent. After that comes the occasional surprise visits from the politician, always on days where his depression is peaking and he is considering physically harming himself. The final thing is the fact that some of Sherlock’s clothes have vanished and been replaced with other clothes.

At first he thought he was just imagining things. He occasionally goes in there to dust, not wanting to allow the only place his flatmate ever kept clean to get dirty. But then he had noticed that sometimes the closet would be open and other times shut, he also noticed that the amount of any particular color seemed to vary from time to time. If he had not been suspicious of the Fall before that, well he was now.

So he started tracking when the clothing changed, and he started using his laptop to look for unusual things in the news. What he discovered was someone systematically going through Europe and Asia eliminating crime webs. The depression that had nearly cost him everything slowly began to retreat as he gains a new focus.

The tremor in his hand just about vanishes again and the limp is all but non-existent. He returns to working at the clinic, actually picking up hours and working at a few of the other clinics in the system as well.

Nearly eight months after the Fall he has another bad day. This time because the child he has as a patient was dying of cancer and his parents instead of taking care of the child thought it was perfectly fine to beat him. It had taken two of the other doctors to pull him off the father when the man had slapped his son as they were walking out the door. One of the nurses had called the police, and another had separated the little boy from his parents, taking him into his office to wait.

“John, I got a call from dispatch that you were part of a brawl at a clinic?” he hears his friend on the Yard remark as he comes walking up.

Anger still burning beneath the surface it takes him a moment to select the right words as he states, “He made the mistake of hitting a child dying of cancer in front of me.” He will not apologize for the situation and would do it again if he had a chance. “I have also filed a report on both parents for the physical abuse and neglect that has been repeatedly dealt to him. I have also contacted the other clinics to confer with them on his records. They should be here shortly.”

“How dare!” the father starts to scream but stops when he sees the look in his eyes.

“Take them out to the car,” Greg orders to the two officers with him, motioning to the parents.

“I didn’t do anything!” the mother cries out, eyes wild looking as the officer motions her to the door, fingers lightly touching her arm.

The father tries to lunge at him but does not get far before the officers have hold of him and are handcuffing him.

He just frowns crossing his arms and glaring at the bigger man.

Greg gets statements from all of the people in the clinic, both patients and staff, before coming over to where he is standing and cocking an eyebrow at him. “You alright mate?”

“Fine,” he replies shortly.

“You sure? You’ve reported abuse before without ever feeling the need to dent the person’s head first.” The older man remarks softly.

Exhaling loudly he nods once, “I am, would you like a copy of the medical files or should I just send them on to the normal idiots?”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the startled look the detective inspector gives him, “John,” the older man begins.

Smiling tightly he remarks, “Listen I still have paperwork to do, if you want we can meet up later this week for drinks but for now do you want the paperwork or not?”

Running a hand through his hair, the detective inspector responds, “It’s not really my division, but since I know you, and know you are not exaggerating, I’ll take them and make sure he is well cared for.”

Nodding, he turns on his heel and heads into his office here, collecting up the paperwork before going in the back room where the fax machine is located at. On the fax is an entire stack of papers, after skimming each to make sure that they are what he requested he makes a copy for Greg before handing him the large buddle. According to the amount of documents and the fact that there is other doctor’s reports that say the same thing about the boy being abused.

“If you need a doctor to testify, I’ll do it.” He tells him as the older man glances through, his eyes widening slightly in anger as he skims them.

“Where is Andy?” he inquires after checking the report for the little boy’s name.

“In Melissa’s office,” he replies, leading him to it.

Knocking twice, his fellow doctor opens the door, a look of anger and sadness filling her eyes, “Yes John?”

“Is Andy still with you?” he inquires politely.

She nods once, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping out.

“Andy?” he softly calls out to the child so not to startle him since he is staring at the floor, when the little boy looks up he smiles reassuringly before motioning to Greg, “This is my friend Greg, he is here to take you somewhere safe. He’s a good man, he’ll make sure that you won’t be hurt again,” he tells him as he gets closer and kneels on his good leg just before him.

Slowly the boys head bobs once but he winces, hand automatically going up to his temple to hold the side of his head. “You sure?” he asks with a child’s lisp.

He nods once, still smiling reassuringly.

Greg kneels beside him, putting him at eye level as well, “Hi Andy,” he murmurs softly.

For a few minutes the little boy says nothing, sitting there staring at the older man with wide eyes as if judging him. Eventually he slowly nods, getting to his feet as if it hurt to move.

Frowning at this he looks at Melissa in the door, asking, “Did you do a full check?”

She shakes her head, “No, didn’t have a chance to.”

“Andy, can you come in my office for a few minutes? Greg will right there with us and he is a detective inspector.” He softly asks the younger man.

Frowning, he eventually nods once so they head into the other office where he has the little boy take off his shirt and he proceeds to checking him, noticing even more damage than what his initial report included. Despite the boys hesitancy he also has him take of his trousers but leaves on his pants in order to record damage done there as well. What he discovers is that he is favoring his leg due to a slight break according to feel.

“I’d suggest taking him to the hospital,” he tells Greg softly as the little boy gets dressed. “I think he has a concussion and his leg is cracked, possibly even broken.”

“Alright,” the detective inspector remarks, pulling his phone out and calling for someone to met him at the hospital while he gives the little boy a pain killer and adds this to his chart.

Not long after the little boy is being escorted out by Greg, heading to St. Bart’s to have his findings confirmed. While he hates the fact the little boy will have to go through it a second time, the records will mean he does not have to testify, and if the cancer gets him before his parents go before a judge they will still be held responsible for their actions. Justice will be served.

As soon as the paperwork is done, he asks Melissa if he can go, he is too furious right now to stay and she nods in understanding, telling him that’s actually what she expected since he had to deal with it the most.

Even though he is nearly an hour away from home, he decides to walk rather than catch a cab or the tube. It is best to work off as much of this anger as he can before he gets home. He is roughly half way home when the sleek black car pulls up beside him, door opening silently. For a minute he considers refusing but the pain in his leg that started roughly three blocks before keeps him from doing so. Instead he sighs angrily before sliding in. He is unsurprised to see that it is merely Anthea sitting there.

“He would have come himself but there is a meeting going on that he could not miss, after receiving a phone call he sent me to make sure you made it home alright,” she tells him without ever looking up from her phone.

“Thanks,” he snarks at her before closing his eyes for a moment to center himself, the walk had not helped much, “Sorry. I just wish people like him actually got the justice they deserve.”

She looks up from her phone, dark eyes speculative as she remarks, “I will relay that to him.”

A few minutes later they are pulling up to the curb outside of the flat and he nods once in thanks before sliding out to walk tiredly up the steps.

Right now he would have just about killed to have Sherlock here. The consulting detective would just glance at him and know everything that had happened today. Depending on the younger man’s mood he would say something rude and sarcastic, quote statistics at him, or play the violin for him. In any of those scenarios he would feel better by the end it. Instead he gets a silent flat. Mrs. Hudson is out of town right now with her sister taking a cruise.

Shaking his head, he hangs up his jacket and puts his shoes behind the door before deciding to get a shower. He knows he should eat, and maybe he will after the shower, but for now food is nowhere on his agenda. Of course the shower does not go as smoothly as he wants, his leg cramping just as he gets in so he ends up falling against the side of it, bruising his leg further.

Nothing a long soak won’t fix, he tells himself when the water is finally pouring over him. Since he is the only one here he can use all the hot water he wants.

When he gets out he is still seething over how his day has gone. He is furious about the little boy and all of the harm he has been dealt. Enraged over the fact his best friend pretended to commit suicide and thought he did not need to know it was a fake. He is angry at his sister because he cannot turn to her due to her drinking problem.

Trying to get out of the dark place he is rapidly falling into, he decides to make himself some tea, almost automatically making a second cup which has him leaning against the counter and holding his head as he tries to bring his emotions under control.

“I will take that cup if you are not set on dumping it,” he hears the posh voice of his flatmate’s brother from behind him.

A small part of him wants to throw the hot tea all over the taller man but the saner part of his mind overrules. “Hello Mycroft,” he answers tightly, lifting both cups off of the counter and carrying them to the living room where he sets the cups down on the table. “What do you want?” he snaps as he sits in his chair.

Lifting his head the auburn-haired politician gives him a narrow look, “Just checking on you, I was informed that today was not pleasant.”

There is something in the other man’s tone that has him narrowing his eyes as he studies him. Since the first time they met there had been tension between them. At first he had thought it was that of adversaries but in recent months he has not been so sure. There is something else there as well. Something he should be able to determine but cannot put his finger on it. That’s the part bugging him, because he is sure he should be able to.

“Why are you really here Mycroft? We both know you do not care if I have a bad day or not.” he demands as stares at the older man.

Instead of answering, the politician takes a sip of his tea, smiling slightly at it.

It is in that smile that he realizes what he has been missing. Attraction, not a massive one, but enough of one that even though the politician is not all that fond of him he still comes over when he knows it is a bad day. One that makes the politician angry with himself for the emotions behind it because it is just sentiment and he remembers that Sherlock once said Mycroft abhors sentiment.

But for there to be tension both of them must feel attraction. Is there attraction on his part? He’s straight, he came to terms with that long before, but he also came to terms with the fact that he found Sherlock attractive for his intelligence and his body only secondarily. Could the same thing have happened with Mycroft? For several minutes the two of them sit there in silence.

“Why did he fake his suicide?” he eventually asks. His voice a lot calmer than it had been previously. For some reason this epiphany has actually helped him get past the anger that had been building all day. It did not get rid of it but made it more controllable.

“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about,” the politician replies in a tone that implies he is being foolish.

“Don’t fucking mess with me Mycroft, I am no in mood for games.” He snaps, getting to his feet and collecting both cups to make more tea.

The auburn-haired man says nothing, just lifting his head and watching him with those far too observant eyes.

It only takes a few minutes for the second cups of tea to brew during which time he listens as the politician’s phone goes off and he gets up, stepping out onto the entry way to answer it. He is just out of ear shot though he gets the impression of a low rumble. Just as he sets the teas on their respective tables and sits down the taller man comes back in.

“So why? I really not in the mood to play games,” he repeats himself softly, but with the tone that used to make soldiers jump to do as ordered.

Apparently the tone startles the politician whose eyes widen ever so slightly, to most it would not be noticeable but after spending so much time with Sherlock he notices it.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” the politician repeats.

Standing, he just about stalks over to where the politician is just in front of the door, he stops just a few inches away but still within striking distance. Apparently some instinct in Mycroft notices this tend towards violence because he goes to step backwards only for John to reach past him and shut the door so there is nowhere for him to go except against the wall.

“Contrary to what you and your brother think, I am not stupid, I might not be as fast as either of you but to date the only one that has been is Moriarty.” He hisses at the older man, watching as he flinches at the name.

Softly, as if trying to convince himself more than him, the politician repeats himself for a third time, “I do not know what you are talking about.”

Eyes narrowing, his lips quirk in an almost cruel smile, “Don’t you Mycroft?” he steps forward a bit, almost into the taller man’s personal space, “I think you do, just like I think you know why there is tension between us,” his voice softens to a dark murmur, a combination of Captain Watson’s commanding tone and Three Continent Watson’s seductive drawl.

He watches in fascination as the politician tries not to breathe too deeply, eyes widening just a slight bit more, a light flush coloring to his face. Oh yeah, he is right about what half their problem is. With a suddenness born out of yeas in action he uses his good foot to knock the politician’s to the side, causing him to slide slightly down the wall and putting them at the same height as he steps the rest of the way forward into the older man’s space. Pressing just about against his front as his hands come up quicker than one would expect to catch the older man’s face in his hands. Slowly, giving the politician a chance to withdraw if this is not what he wants he presses his lips against his. Softly at first then with more demand as he puts two years worth of anger and passion into it.

Mycroft gasps against his lips, causing him to take advantage of the taller man’s suddenly open mouth to deepen the kiss. When he feels the older man sliding partly down the wall, he shifts his good leg forward between the taller man’s pinning him in place as he continues to plunder his mouth. Mycroft’s hands flutter beside and behind him like the politician cannot decide whether to push him away or pull him close.

When he finally stops kissing the taller man both of them are breathing heavy, he can feel the taller man’s arousal through his thick suit pressing against the top of his leg where he has it between the politicians.

“Now then, repeat that lie,” he challenges softly, hands still cupping the taller man’s face.

Closing his eyes, the auburn-haired man sighs once, “We did not want you hurt. If you knew he was alive, your grief would not be as deep, and whoever is watching you would have realized it. There is contract out there for yours, Mrs. Hudson, and Detective Inspector Lestrade’s lives if he is still alive. His, our, only hope of saving you three was for him to hunt down and destroy the web.”

He nods once even though the older man cannot see it, that’s about what he expected, “Now wasn’t that easy?” he questions softly, recapturing the taller man’s lips with his, this time a softer, more sensual kiss. One designed to light fire to the older man’s blood.

“Ja-ohn,” the politician gasps out as he moves from kissing his lips to nibbling his way down his jaw, his hands have shifted to holding the other man’s hips, keeping him from sliding any further as he keeps exploring the taller mans skin.

“Do you want me to stop, Mycroft?” he breathes against the older man’s ear, enjoying the sharp intake of breath it causes.

“It depends,” he replies after a moment, his voice a bit ragged as if he’d not sure how to deal with this situation.

“On what?” he asks as he runs the flat of his tongue against the ear shell.

“Why you are doing this,” comes his response, head tilting slightly, almost in invitation.

“Why?” he repeats with a smile, “Because I realized exactly what the tension was and wanted to see how you would react. Because it could possibly be good for both of us, as way to unwind and relax. Because I think, Mycroft, that you have never lost control and sometimes you crave that loss.” He answers before sucking on the spot directly below the ear.

“Ja-ohn,” the taller man groans, his head rolling the rest of the way to the side.

Nibbling his way down to his collar he murmurs, “It’s up to you. I have my answers, now it’s your turn.”

He stops at the collar, not unfastening, just waiting as he holds the older man’s hips. With his lips gently on the throat he can feel the politician erratic pulse, every heavy breath that escapes him or gets dragged in, and the heat radiating from. He knows the older man is running through a thousand possibilities and scenarios trying determine what the best and worst possible outcomes to this situation are.

Slowly the politician nods once, “Yes.”

“We will have a proper discussion about this later, alright?” he asks as one hand slides up the front of his partner’s suit in order to unfasten the collar, which first requires him to un-loop the tie. Not an issue. Carefully he tugs the tie loose first, before undoing it, making sure not to actually put pressure on Mycroft’s throat as he does so. From there he goes to unfastening the formal white shirt beneath, leaving the tie just hanging there. Once that is open, he proceeds to kissing the now uncovered skin.

The auburn-haired genius finally decides what to do with his hands it seems as they grip his hips, holding them flush together.

Since he is not the most dexterous person, he slides his other hand up and uses both to unfasten the buttons on his suit jacket, waistcoat, and button down. Each piece of flesh he uncovers he kisses, licks, noses, and nibbles at. Listening closely to the sound of the taller man’s breathing and the other noises he is making as n indicator of what he enjoys and what he does not. Discovering that while the genius does not really like his nipples sucked on, he enjoys them being slowly licked. He feels as the older man tenses up when he gets past his chest to his waist and recalls all of the times that Sherlock had snipped at him about his weight.

“Mycroft,” he murmurs softly as he finishes unbuttoning the shirts and pushing them open, leaning back slightly he studies the auburn-haired genius. He can see him withdrawing into himself, tensing up further. Instead he smiles and state simply, “Perfect,” before setting to proving it to the disbelieving politician.

He had started this a bit rougher than is normal for him because of his anger, now though, all that anger had drained away leaving him in a state of arousal stronger than anything he has felt since he was a teenager.

Dropping to his knees, boy would he pay for that later, he takes some time to just explore the soft skin before him with just a thin line of pale red hair leading into his trousers and pants. He slowly kisses every inch he can reach taking his time swirling his tongue around the older man’s bellybutton when he hears him suck in a surprised breath and using his tongue to play connect the dots with the freckles he finds.

Even through the fabric he can smell the older man’s arousal. Still he ignores that for a moment to continue his worship of his stomach and lower chest. The slight curve to it, there is a fine layer of muscle below it, though it would take someone who understands the body to notice it, that speaks of being in far better shape than a quick glance would allow one to think. He does not unfasten the top button of the trousers until he has Mycroft gasping for breath, his long fingers holding sunk into his hair, amazing noises escaping him.

Slowly he unbuttons the taller man’s trousers before he tugs them down, though not all the way off, trapping him right where he is.

Through the black silk pants he noses at the heavy erection and bollocks, enjoying the musky scent before lipping at him for a minute before he finally decides to pull them down as well. Slowly he runs his tongue around the head, before intentionally licking the slit then carefully taking him as deep as he feels safe doing on his first try. Since he has never given another man head before he takes a few moments to get used to the feel of having his thick length in his mouth before he begins to move, thinking about all of the things he likes and tries to replicate them on the politician. He still listens carefully to the sounds the older man is making in order to make sure he is enjoying it.

One arm he has holding the taller man’s hips still by pressing him against the wall while his hand strokes everything he can reach. His other hand is carefully squeezing and playing with the older man’s bollocks, learning their feel and what makes him moan in need and whimper in pleasure.

Tilting his head slightly he finds he can take more of Mycroft in and watch the way the emotions chase across the auburn-haired genius’ face. He knows long before Mycroft tugs on his hair that the older man is getting close to the edge by the feel of his balls drawing up and his cock getting slightly harder, not to mention the precum dripping out of him up a storm.

Not sure it will work, but wanting to try he swallows him once and that does it, the next thing he knows Mycroft is pulsing in his throat. Hips stuttering against his arm as he comes.

When he is certain the taller man is done, he slowly withdraws remembering how sensitive his own dick can be after an orgasm like that and not wanting to overload the taller man’s senses. At least not while he has the auburn-haired genius still pinned to the door.

Smiling, he kisses his way up the taller man’s stomach, chest, throat, and jaw, before kissing the corner of his lip gently. Seeing the very wide eyed expression on the older man’s face, he carefully tugs his pants and trousers back up, tucking him in, and buttoning him up before just stroking the older man’s upper body.

He can feel the light tremble that courses through him.

“What about you?” the politician eventually asks.

He smiles slightly, leading him over to the sofa, and gently pushing him down on it, “You look overwhelmed and I do not wish to overdo things before we have had our chat,” he answers with a reassuring smile, “Let me get you a fresh tea while you catch your breath.”

Slowly the older man nods and he can feel the eyes watching him as he sets a new kettle of water to boil and dumps their currently cold teas before rinsing the cups. By the time he is done, the water is ready and he makes a new set of teas, carrying them both out before handing Mycroft his and taking a seat on the other end of the sofa.

His pants and trousers are feeling far too tight, but he has never been less than a gentleman before, he is not going to start now. That means at least a small talk about expectations, particularly since he does not want this to be nothing but a one-night stand.

For a few minutes the two of them sit there in silence, each sipping their own tea. However he notices something, it seems the longer they sit still the tenser the auburn-haired genius is getting, almost like he is having an argument with himself. He can also see the mask that normally controls his features slipping back into place as if he had not been nearly begging just minutes before against the door.

“Better?” he queries gently as he sets the cup aside.

With the mask firmly in place the older man nods once, “Of course,” he replies in almost a lofty tone.

“Relax please,” he murmurs and waits for the politician to nod before he inquires, “What are your expectations of a liaison between us?”

A frown curves the auburn-haired-genius’ lips as he thinks about that.

When he has not answered after several minutes he gently asks, “Would it be easier if I listed mine first?”

He can almost feel the relief from the politician as he nods once strongly in response.

“Alright then,” he begins, “I realize that you probably have a crazy busy schedule so I will understand if something comes—“ he is cut off by the sound of Mycroft’s phone going off which has him quirking his lips as he states, “like that.”

Standing, he takes their cups into the kitchen in order to give the politician privacy while he answers the phone. When he hears the soft rumble of his voice fall silent he returns to the living room with two new cups of tea. Only he finds Mycroft standing and buttoning up his shirt.

Setting the teas down, he steps in front of him, gently pushing hands that he can see trembling aside, questioning, “Called into work?” as he carefully redoes all the buttons and tucks the shirt back in, he leaves only the tie for Mycroft to handle since he is certain his tie knot is not nearly as perfect.

“Yes,” the older man answers simply, watching him with those sharp eyes.

He nods once, gently laying a hand on his shoulder before leaning up to kiss his cheek softly, “Alright, come over for dinner when you have time, I’ll cook and you can relax. Just text and let me know an hour or two before please or if you have a particular type of food text me a head of time so I can get it.”

Blinking at him rapidly the politician nods once before double checking himself and leaving without another word.

Shaking his head, he settles into his chair with his tea, reflecting on the day from start to finish. He had not expected things to go the way they had with Mycroft. Hell prior to tonight he had not even contemplated being attracted to the politician but now that he has admitted it, he finds that the idea must have been floating in his head for a while because it feels right.

When he is done with his tea, he cleans everything up, doing a light house cleaning on the flat and feeling better than he has in months. Now he just needs to make sure he does not screw everything up.


	2. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall

_Mycroft’s POV_  
Nearly seventeen hours later he is sitting at his desk when he finally has a chance to think about what happened at his brother’s flat. About the fact that his brother’s flatmate had kissed him hard and passionately and like he meant. That the blonde doctor had teased him, with touches and kisses, and affection but not cruelly, at least he does not think it was supposed to be out of cruelty. What confuses him is the fact that he knows John was hard, he had felt it through the doctor’s jeans and yet he did not seem to expect him to do anything about it. Didn’t even seem to want him to touch him. Did the doctor think that he was not worth the time? That he was not good enough? Despite his words otherwise did he think he was not good enough looking?

He is nearly hyperventilating when his PA enters the room with a fresh pot of coffee and a sandwich. She takes a single look at him before softly asking, “Sir, are you alright?”

It takes him a moment to answer but he manages to force words past his lips, “Yes, of course,” even to his ears he sounds off so he can just imagine what he sounds like to her.

Frowning, she walks carefully behind him but to the side so he can still see her before lifting her hands to his shoulders and carefully beginning to work the kinks out that had formed with the panic attack. Slowly he relaxes under her careful touch, regaining the equilibrium he requires and thankful for having such a loyal assistant.

There is no one else he would want to help him past a panic attack besides his brother or assistant.

Don’t lie to yourself, his subconscious thinks, you would like John to do it before your assistant any day of the week. It would show that he accepts you as is. Even understanding that you are flawed.

Shut up! he mentally yells at himself, embarrassed to be thinking like that and over the first panic attack he has had in nearly three years. Thankfully they were very rare and only happened when there was a lull after whatever caused it was done. He was cool under pressure.

“Thank you, Aither,” he murmurs appreciatively, letting her know it is done.

She stops working on his neck, moving around to the front of the desk to pour him a fresh coffee and carries on as if nothing happened thankfully, “You have two short meetings and then you can go home and relax,” she tells him, “the first is with the Chinese Defense Minister, the second is with that annoying American in charge of the CIA.”

He nods, sipping his coffee and mentally reviewing the information he needs for each meeting. Even though he is not very hungry he eats the sandwich because he knows she will hold up the meetings until he does so, she has done so before. It means that it has been at least twelve hours since his last solid meal. When he has eaten as much as he can stomach, which happens to be just a little over half the sandwich she takes it away before setting up the video conference so he can get these meetings out of the way.

Just over two hours later he is done and happy that he can go home, at least for a little bit. He has been awake for nearly thirty-two hours and his body is ready for him to go home and rest even if his mind is not.

“Your car is waiting Sir,” his PA tells him with a small smile, “Your first meeting is not until noon, so you can sleep in if you would like.”

Standing, he stretches and realizes that he has been sitting still far too long, his body is stiff and sore.

“Have the car at the house at half eight,” he remarks, it is an hour later than he normally comes in, and he knows he will not be sleeping the entire time, but perhaps he can figure out some of the issues swirling around in his head.

She nods once, “Yes Sir,” before escorting him out of the building and to the car. He is unsurprised when she gets in after him, giving the driver his address as the car glides away from the curb.

At his house she sees him safely to the door much to his amusement before returning to the car. Once inside, he heads upstairs to his bedroom and bathroom suit. He is too tired for a bath but perhaps he could safely shower? Swaying a bit he decides that would not be a good idea unless he wanted to court passing out, and selects to brush his teeth before stripping out of his clothing which is thrown in a hamper to be taken for dry cleaning.

Collapsing in his bed, his last thought before he passes out is he wishes that John was there with him.

He wakes at his normal time, not a minute sooner or later, with a groan. As much as he wants to just lay there, that would not be a good idea so instead he gets up, stretching and heading directly to his bathroom in order to get that shower that he wanted the night before. As the flannel skims over his body, he remembers the way that the doctor had touched him, blunt fingers touching him as if he was special, important, worth worshiping. It must have been the anger. There is no way that he really meant what he said, any of it. Nobody ever wants him. There has always been something wrong with him. When he was a child he was too smart, as a teenager too fat, as an adult both too fat and too gaunt at various times, throughout his life too quiet, too boring, too plain. There was no way that the doctor could want him.

Closing his eyes, he recalls every minute of that exquisite pleasure pain. Of the need and desire and for just a brief time feeling like he belongs. Still he manages to convince himself by the end of his shower he is mistaken, that the doctor does not want him. It was a one off.

Over the next three weeks he throws himself into his work, doing far more than he actually has to, staying late even on days he could get out at a regular time or even early just to avoid being at home on his own. Then nearly a month later he gets a text message that surprises him.

-Hi Myt, haven’t heard from you so I hope all is well, still waiting on dinner.-JW

For nearly five minutes he sits there staring at the phone. It is not possible. Nobody wants him. Yet despite his doubts and disbelief that message is still there two hours later when he is done with his last meeting of the night. All he has left is a little bit of paperwork and then he can leave. The question is: is he willing to have the conversation he is dreading, the one that will lead to him being rejected yet again.

“Aimee?” he queries, as he holds the phone in his hand debating what to do.

“Sir?” his dark-haired assistant responds.

“When is my next day off?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation. He does not want to work the day after he has this conversation with the doctor.

This catches her attention because her head jerks up and she stares at him for a long minute before answering, “You have four of them coming since you have not taken any in the last twenty-five days.” Quickly reviewing his schedule on the phone she remarks, “There is nothing major for the next two days, why don’t you take them unless something comes up?”

He thinks about it for a few minutes before nodding slowly once and sending a response.

-Is tonight at 7:30 too early?- MH

It feels as if he has barely hit send when his phone is buzzing in response.

-That’s perfect! Do you like chicken?- JW

Blinking in shock he looks up at his assistant for a minute considering asking her advice but decides against it and answers the doctor on his own.

-Chicken is fine- HM

It is not until after he sent the text that he realizes he put his initials backwards. How could he make such a stupid mistake? They’re his initials after all, he has had them his entire life, he should be able to get them right!

“Sir?” his PA murmurs as she steps close.

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose as he answers, “Yes Aimee?”

“Please relax, you are beginning to worry me,” she replies softly.

He smiles a bit sardonically, “You are the only one who would worry,” he states just as softly, sure it’s the truth.

She shakes her head, “I think your wrong sir, your brother would worry if he knew and I think the doctor would worry if he understood.”

He can feel the slight flush coloring his face as he tries to come up with a good response.

Tilting her head slightly, she smiles at him, “It’s a good thing to be courted,” she reassures him, “And I think he will treat you right.”

That statement has him giving her a speculative look but she has already returned to her phone, listening for orders but not actually focusing on him. A small smile curves the corner of his lips, it is good to have an assistant who knows him so well. It is also a good thing that he knows he can trust her and not just because she knows he will destroy her otherwise. Nodding to himself once he returns to work, only to be interrupted by his phone as soon as he lifts his pen.

-Allergic to anything?- JW

-No.-MH

-Great! See you tonight,- JW

Once more he finds himself staring at his phone as his mind goes haywire before he manages to shake himself free of it. Having a panic attack is not going to help anything, might as well get the paperwork done. He can break down tomorrow in the comfort of his home after the doctor tells him he made a mistake.

A little over an hour later his assistant clears her throat, catching his attention and motioning to the clock, “If you would like to freshen up a bit, you have a little time,” she tells him with a small smile, “Personally I know I always appreciate a chance to do so because then I feel good about myself.”

He nods, glancing at the paper and surprised to see it was the last one he needed to get done and that he was ahead of schedule.

Standing, he stretches, happy that he is not nearly as tense as the last time he went over there, well afterwards anyways. Not thinking about that yet, he never did make a list of what he was expecting, after all the chance of the doctor expecting anything are pretty slim. He still doubts anything will come of this dinner and figures it’s just John’s way of trying to be polite. Shaking his head, he retreats to the small attached bathroom to get a quick shower and change suits. Frowning at the mirror, he thinks the dark blue makes him look like he has gained weight that is not the impression he wants to give. Does he want to give an impression? Yes, because maybe this will go somewhere. He makes the impossible happen all the time. Maybe just this once the impossible will happen for him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he heads to the desk to grab his phone and other items that belong in his pockets before grabbing his umbrella. At least he can grip the umbrella handle and use it as a way to avoid stress tonight. Like that is going to work, his mind grumbles at him.

His assistant looks him over once, nodding before remarking, “Perfect, that particular shade brings out your eyes.”

He narrows his eyes at her, not really believing it, but follows her out of the building to the car. Sliding in, he finds that he is beginning to feel nervous again and decide to treat this no differently than any other time he has entered into political negotiations. Later he would determine that probably was not the best course of action, but for now it is all he has.

The ride from the office to the flat seems to take forever and be the shortest time ever. Intellectually he knows that is because he is nervous but it is still frustrating, he is not used to feeling like this. As the car pulls to a stop he considers canceling but knows his assistant probably will not let him. Instead she smiles at him and reassures him that he will be undisturbed for the next sixty hours. About then he is hoping for a global emergency but he knows it is not going to be that simple.

Straightening his tie, he slides out of the back of the car and walks up to the door. With the key that Mrs. Hudson had given him years before so he could check on his brother he opens the door, closing it silently behind him as his car pulls away. After taking a deep breath he straightens his posture before walking up the stairs, with each step his umbrella soft clicks on the floor.

He is mildly surprised that Mrs. Hudson does not come out of her flat to investigate until he recalls that she is visiting her great niece in Greece for a week. Apparently in the last few months she has decided that she wants to see all of her living relatives because she has been travelling everything to do so according to the reports.

Get a move on it, he orders himself as his steps slow, this is no different than any other time he does a negotiation.

Head held high, he completes the last few steps and just about stops dead in his tracks when he spots the door open. There is something tasty smelling coming out of the flat. For a long minute he just stands their identifying all of the scents. Fresh chicken slowly roasted in a buttery garlic sauce with onions, peppers, carrots, and celery. Homemade mashed potatoes with chicken-garlic gravy. He can smell the bread just getting done, unlike most of the rest of the dinner it is light honey wheat without a touch of garlic.

Come on Mycroft, he prompt himself, step through the door already.

Before he has a chance to do so, the doctor appears right in front of it with a wide smile on his face, “You made it! I was worried something might have kept you over. Dinner is just about done, please get comfortable.” With that the doctor is off, back into the kitchen.

Already tonight is not going anything like he expected. Maybe Aimee is right and he is over thinking things, maybe the doctor really is. Better stop that train of thought now before his hopes get up too high.

Stepping into the flat, he glances around, mildly shocked to see it cleaner than it has been in months. His brother’s things are still where they were, but neater, the dust is gone and the random chaos has been picked up. Glancing over at the kitchen he gets his real shock. All of his brother’s equipment has been cleaned and carefully stored, everything has been carefully scrubbed, and the blonde man is happily humming as he finishes setting the table. A table that is just about shining with a single long stem deep red rose and candle sitting on it.

Blinking, he double checks what he is seeing just to make sure he is not mistaken. The doctor has it set up like a date or like he is trying to woo him. He’s not making dinner just to tell him it was a mistake?

Slowly he takes a seat in the chair closer to the door as he watches the doctor continue to buzz around. A few minutes later the smaller man is serving up dinner and he can honestly say he is looking forward to it. It smells delicious. He raises an eyebrow when the doctor first sets a glass of ice water by his plate, and the other eyebrow joins it when he pulls a moderately decent type of white wine out and pours both of them flutes of it.

Then before he does anything else, he pulls something out of the cupboard before shoving it in the now empty oven after pulling the steaming hot bread out.

Smiling happily, the doctor sits down, stating softly, “Thank you for joining me.”

He nods once, sniffing the air delicately to determine what all the spices are as he answers, “Thank you for the invitation.” Looking at the meal he continues, “This smells delicious, do you cook like this often?”

With a small shake of his head, the smaller man replies, “Nah, it loses some of its value if I did special meals all the time, so I only do them for important things, though I do make a lot of my own breads for sandwiches and such.”

“Good point,” he remarks with a nod, “A very good point,” for a moment he is not sure if he should say a blessing or not.

That question is answered when the doctor gives him a reassuring smile and motions to his plate with his fork, “Please enjoy,” he comments before watching him to see if he ate.

Blushing lightly, he uses the provided fork and knife to slice a piece of the chicken off. Nibbling at it, his eyes widen at the explosion of flavor, it is almost as good, no it is as good as some of the foods made by the chefs at the Club. Amazing.

Beaming at him, the doctor sets to eating his dinner as well. Nearly the entire meal is shared in peaceful quiet. It is not awkward or forced, it simply is.

He finds himself reflecting on this fact as it happens, shocked at how easy it is to just be. There are not many people he can think of that handle silence so well. Most make it feel wrong. Particularly in a situation like this, this almost date. Even in the Club the silence was out of habit, not this easy acceptance. This was something he could get used to. Having someone around who does not mind his silent times or his crazy schedule, on paper he has a nine to five life but in truth he is on call pretty much always.

As he is finishing his plate, the timer goes off and John excuses himself from the table, inquiring, “Do you have room for dessert?”

Biting his lip he remembers every single comment ever made about his weight and considers turning him down but as the oven opens he sniff again, blackberry cobbler, fresh, handmade. Oh hell, might as well enjoy, “I do, that was wonderful.”

“Thanks,” the doctor replies as he sets the cobbler down and goes over to the freezer in order to pull out a box of French vanilla ice cream.

Riveted he watches as he slices the cobbler and serves it, each motion intentional and exact. Surgical is the word that comes to mind, yet there is a grace to it as well.

Lifting his plate away, he trades it for the dish with the cobbler, before setting the plate in the sink.

Apparently the smaller man sees something in his expression because he remarks, “It’s alright to enjoy it. You’re not overweight or obese. Actually,” the doctor looks at him sharply for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face, “You could probably use a few more pounds.”

He stares at the other man in shock. No one had ever told him he was too skinny before. It is always that he is too heavy. Even his brother had nettled him for years about his weight. While he will admit he was a bit overweight as a teenager, he had gotten pasted that when he started his job, though it took a lot of effort to stay on the thin side. There were times he would go two or three days without eating and only drinking vitamin water.

Giving a small shake of his head, he smiles at the doctor before taking a bite. Dinner was excellent, this is sinful. The flavor explodes on his tongue and he has to bite back a low moan at how good it tastes. According to the look the doctor is giving him, he did not successful bite back the entire noise because there is a heat to his eyes that he finds hard to believe is directed at him.

When they are done, John cleans up the food, putting it away before placing all of the dishes in the sink to be washed. “Would you like some tea?” the doctor inquires as he sets to filling a kettle with water.

“Please,” he replies, his throat suddenly dry at how domestic tonight has been. No way that this is going to last, things never work out for him like this. That is a fact he had accepted years before.

Still smiling, the smaller man sets about doing so, before asking, “Would you like to speak in here or in the living room?”

It takes him a minute to remember the reason he had originally be nervous. Of course, the conversation, the one he is certain going to be the doctor telling him he is mistaken, that there is no hope of any sort of relationship, that the last time he was here was a mistake. Might as well get this over with and crush all of his hopes now. “The living room.”

“Alright, if you want to get comfortable, I will bring the tea out.”

He nods, standing a bit stiffly and moving out to the other room, his mind is whirling with all the possible outcomes.

A few minutes later the doctor enters the living room with the tea, setting his down and then perching on the other end of the sofa.

“So, I realize it has been a few weeks, and I know you have been busy but have you put any thought into the question I had asked you?” the doctor inquires softly.

“I, ummm,” he starts to answer not sure what to say.

Smiling gently the younger man comments, “Would you like me to start?”

He nods gratefully, best get the hard part done first, and whatever the doctor has to say will affect his choice.

“Okay, so as I started to say, I understand that you are a very busy man, that you are on call more often than not. I am all good with that. Past that, this is my first relationship with a man, so I am feeling it out just as much.” The doctor smile’s reassuringly at him before continuing, “I also understand there is a lot of things you cannot say because of your job, I still ask that you be as honest as you can be, I will do the same. You do not have to worry about me being unfaithful, I tend to be monogamous.” He pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully as if considering something, “Physically will be at your pace, you’re welcome to stay here whenever you want, whether it is just to relax or for something more. I am a tactile person, I tend to touch so I want you to tell me if it is ever too much, alright?”

Without blinking he nods once, his mind reeling, John really did mean to try this? But why? He is nothing special. Most of his time is spent working, even when he is not at work, he tend to think about it a lot, he knows nothing of relationships, nothing of being affectionate, no idea how to share his life. He’s leaving the physical aspects up to him? Does that mean he does not want him or that it is his responsibility to make him happy? He doesn’t even know how to initiate something, what if he gets all the signals wrong? What if he does the wrong thing?

He’s so wrapped up in his mind, worrying and over thinking that he doesn’t even realize he is hyperventilating until the doctor is beside him, one hand gently rubbing his back in smooth, even circles as he murmurs softly.

“No noise, please,” he mumbles, the sound grating his nerves further.

Bobbing his head in understanding the doctor falls silent but does not stop gently rubbing his back.

He can feel the smaller man’s body close by but not quite touching. Biting his lip, he debates about how it would look if he scooted closer. He doesn’t want words, but the presence of someone there would mean the world to him. What if this makes John reconsider? After all, he probably does not want a partner who has panic attacks over things most people see as normal. With that the little control he had started to gain vanishes and it gets even harder to breath.

The option of scooting closer or scooting further away is taken away when he spots the doctor frowning and thinks that means he is being rejected. So he is startled as a surprisingly strong pair of hand lifts him, shifting him slightly before the doctor scoots into the spot behind him, pulling him back against his rather solid body and rocking him gently.

“I’m not normally this bad,” he eventually mumbles against a rather soft jumper.

Smiling reassuringly the smaller man quietly answers, “Even if you were, it would change nothing, except maybe some extra cuddling.”

What? Not fair. He is a genius, why does he have to be so slow when dealing with situations like this? How is he supposed to respond? This is good right? This should eliminate his worry about what happens if he has one of his rare panic attacks. So why doesn’t he feel better? Oh yeah, the physical aspects, the entire reason he started to panic in the first place. But right now John’s got his arms wrapped loosely around him, he’s trying to be comforting, trying to let him work through things on his own.

Blindly he reaches for where he had set his tea cup only to blink in surprise when he realizes that its fresh tea. When did John make him fresh tea?

“Better?” he hears the smaller man inquire softly, trying to keep his voice pitched low so not to aggravate his nerves according to tone.

How embarrassing, he didn’t even make it through the conversation, “I apologize—“ he begins

“Shhhh, it’s alright, there is nothing to apologize for,” the doctor interrupts him, placing a finger against his lips, “Now, do you know what you felt a bit overwhelmed there and what can we do to make it easier on you?”

Blushing he ducks his head much like Sherlock would when he does not want to answer a question, part of him wants space and to get away physically from the doctor, another part of him wants to curl as close as possible, to be accepted and just held. He wants the doctor to want to hold him, not just because he had one of those damned panic attacks but because the doctor wants to.

Sitting up a little straighter, but not moving away, he drinks some more tea, he can answer. It is not hard, he deals with heads of states and countries all the time, maybe he should pretend it’s the same situation. “Could I have another tea please?” he requests when he realizes it is empty.

“Sure, do you want the same flavor, or a different flavor? I have other teas,” the doctor offers, slowly unwrapping his arms and standing.

“Whatever is simplest for you,” he replies, using this as a moment to collect his thoughts. He’ll comment orderly, in response to what John had already said, and try to keep it as brief as possible when answering what was wrong.

A few minutes later the smaller man returns with the tea, settling back onto his end of the sofa but a little closer, their knees almost touching.

“I appreciate your vocal understanding of my scheduling and the fact that there are things I cannot say,” he begins, deciding to go through the list, “I cannot promise to always be honest, but I can try to be honest about this.” He pauses to take a sip of his tea, “Since I have not been in a relationship,” he nearly stumbles on that word, “in years, there will be rough spots but you should have no worry of me deciding I wish to be with someone else behind your back.” Again he pauses to drink some tea, its peach flavored he absently thinks, designed to be calming. A little smile tugs at his lips with that realization.

For a few minutes the two of them sit there in silence while he tries to figure out how to say the next part. This is hard for him because it directly relates to his weakness, namely those damned panic attacks he has had today. He has not had one in years, but in the last month he has had two of them. Both about the same subject, he knows that in order to get past them he needs to deal with the situation but he is not sure how to go about doing that. How does he tell the waiting doctor that his panic attacks are because he is afraid of messing up physically? He might have picked on Sherlock about being a virgin, but he is pretty sure that his brother has more experience than he does. After all, he was never fat or ugly.

Giving a small shake of his head, he takes a deep breath before stating, “I am concerned about your desire for me to lead physically.”

“Alright,” the doctor answers slowly, he can tell the younger man is doing the math. “Would you prefer if I lead and you tell me when something bothers you?”

Still blushing, he nods once, “That would be more than acceptable, I,” he pauses trying to figure out what to say next.

“How’s this,” the doctor suggests, “We can do a series of slow experiments, see what you like, what you don’t like, what you are indifferent about, and go from there.”  


He nods again, sighing in relief. This is being easier than he thought. Well, actually, if he is being honest he never thought it would come to this. He had figured John had changed his mind.

Smiling, the doctor asks, “So if I do this, what do you think?”

Confused for a moment he is about to ask him what, when the younger man shifts closer, turning slightly so their hips are pressed together.

A little smile tugs at his lips, “That is acceptable,” he replies.

“That’s good,” the doctor beams at him, “Now how about we just sit here and relax for a bit. I can get you another tea when you’re ready.”  


He nods once, grateful that the younger man is not pressing the issue further.

So the rest of their first night officially dating, at least in his mind officially dating, is spent with them mostly relaxing and just enjoying each other’s company. He ends up folding his hands under his chin and thinking, working past the subjects that had caused him to panic. At some point during the evening he had scooted closer to John, tucking so their sides were touching, and at some point after that he had slide just a little bit down on the sofa so that he was just a hair below the doctors shoulder, because a little bit later he had his head resting on it while he continues to think.


	3. Developing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> More thanks to NoOridinarySouthernGirl for help with the chapter by being my cheering squad and idea listener when I was organizing my thoughts

_Mycroft’s POV_  
Over the next few weeks they actually establish a bit of a pattern. On nights he does not have to stay at the office late he texts the doctor to let him know he will be over. Most nights end with him curled up against the smaller man’s side and shoulder, mostly stretched out on the sofa will he thinks. John’s hands gently touching him on the shoulders, back, side. Always comfortingly but never with any heat behind it, besides from the first night when the younger man had sucked him off, there has been nothing of that nature again.

At night they sometimes curl up together in John’s bed, his longer body barely fitting on it but that’s alright, it gives him a reason to actually cuddle with the younger man. It is one of his guilty pleasures, but he loves the cuddling, the feeling of being wanted by someone. The ability to listen to his doctor’s heartbeat and breathing, just to relax listening to the sound.

Then fifty-eight days into the relation, during the eighth week he decides to do something different, texting the doctor and asking if he would like to join him for dinner. He is almost surprised at how quickly he answers with a yes, and sends the car to pick the younger man up while he finishes his paperwork. He will have a different car deliver him to the restaurant of choice. A little over an hour later he meets the doctor at one of his favorite places to eat, greeting the staff by name as they head to the private dining area.

“This place is beautiful,” his date murmurs as he looks around.

He glances around, not really noticing it but nodding anyways.

“Thank you for joining me,” he murmurs as they sit down at their booth, “You make dinner so often, I thought I should treat you to a night out,” he blushes as he speaks. Cooking is not his strong suit, he can do it but prefers not to.

Reaching across the table, his blonde doctor gently squeezes his hand before letting go but leaves his hand sitting right next to his, allowing him to chose whether they hold hands or not. This makes him smile and after a moment’s consideration, he decides to slip his fingers against the smaller man’s running his thumb over the knuckles in his date’s hand.

When a light gasp escapes the smaller man, he looks up from the menu that he is studying, noticing the flush on his skin, the way his eyes are dilated, his shallow breathing, all signs of arousal. He’s aroused? It’s the first sign of arousal he has seen since they started this. Maybe tonight they will get further than they previously. He would really like a chance to explore him. He wants to taste that creamy tan skin, trace the scars and marks, see what happens as hands and mouth touch him.

Smiling, he says nothing to John but continues to play with his hand, eventually turning it over so he can rub the doctor’s palm instead.

He hears the waitress approaching and decides to continue what he is doing, fighting his natural tendency to stop.

“What can I bring you and your date, Mr. Holmes?” the waitress, a young blonde woman named Mary asks as she pulls out her notepad to take their orders.

Smiling politely he answers, giving his order. He continues to play with his dates hand while John stutters out an order. According to the expression in the doctor’s eyes it is most unusual for him being the one being flirted with like this, he is used to being the one flirting.

For the next few hours he continues his light flirting, nothing overt but it still has the desired effect. The next day is actually one of his days off and he had arranged to stay over at the flat with John. They eat their dinner and even have dessert, before they leave. After summoning a car, they slowly walk through the building, not touching but just a little bit closer than he moves with anyone other than his PA.

Once they are in the back seat of the car, after he has given instructions to the driver, he closes the divider between the front and back. A moment later he is happy he did so because John goes from sitting calmly beside him, to pushing him back against the seat as he straddles his hips and proceeds to kiss him senseless. His blunt fingers cupping his jaw, holding him still as the doctor takes his time plundering his mouth.

Groaning softly, he hands run up and down the smaller man’s back, feeling the muscles beneath the nice shirt ripple.

“Damn Mycroft, do you know how hot you are?” the doctor inquires as he proceeds from kissing him on the lips to across his jaw and down his throat. “You’re a bloody tease, but I like it, I think I will tease you back for a few minutes.”

Smaller fingers unfasten his collar after removing his tie, as soon as it is open the doctor proceeds to sucking on the hallow of his throat, making him gasp and tilt his head back. His hips rock up, pushing against the doctors. Those same fingers slip within his shirt, not opening it further, to rub his shoulders, kneading the muscles there.

When the car comes to a stop a few minutes later, he is breathing heavy, his trousers and pants feeling far too tight. Sitting back the smaller man grins at him, straightening his outfit and waiting patiently for the door to open.

As the two of them are getting out of the car, he spots Mrs. Hudson leaving, humming lightly.

“Oh hello John,” she states happily, “I was going to text, but since you’re here, I am not going to be home the next few days, my grandnephew is staying at my sisters so I am going to visit with them.”

His partner smiles at the older woman, “Alright, have a good time Mrs. Hudson,” he replies, giving her a quick hug.

She looks at him, frowns and nods, before hurrying down the sidewalk to a waiting cab.

He sighs softly, since the Fall Mrs. Hudson had not spoken with him any more than she had to. She seemed pleased that he was building a friendship with John, but did not want to talk with him. She held him responsible for his brother’s death, saw it as his failure to protect.

Shaking his head, he follows his doctor into the flat and upstairs. Almost as soon as he is through the front door it is closed and he finds himself pinned, being kissed senseless again. For such an unassuming package the doctor sure knows how to kiss like there is no tomorrow.

His longer fingers grab the smaller man’s hips, pulling him flush so that they are pressed together. Both the younger man and him groan as their pelvises and cocks rub against each other through the fabric.

With a feral grin, he flips them around so that is John pressed against the door instead and continues to kiss. Tracing up the smaller man’s sides, he comes to the top of his shirt and loops his fingers through the collar before beginning to pull it up. They break their kiss just long enough for him to finish pulling the nice jumper off and drop it on the floor before his hands go to unbuttoning the shirt beneath it.

Eventually the two have to stop kissing for a minute in order to catch their breaths.

While they do so, the blonde suggests, “Why don’t we go upstairs and shut the door?”

He nods once, blushing brightly as he takes in the fact that they were making out in the entry way to the flat complex.

Scooping up his shirt, the doctor is the first to go upstairs and he follows closely behind. When they get into the flat, John locks the door behind them, smiling up at him.

“Are you sure?” the blonde inquires softly, giving him a searching look as if making sure.

Part of him wants to grumble, but another part of him is thrilled by the care that he is showing. It takes both respect and affection to care about someone the way that John does him.

“I am,” he replies, nodding once solemnly.

“Good,” the shorter man murmurs, as he reaches for his shirt to tug it off.

“Please,” he states softly biting his lip, reaching for the shirt himself. He wants to strip it off of him, touch every inch of skin that he reveals. Kiss and lick and touch it.

The doctor’s hands drop as he nods once simply watching him.

Nervous now that he is getting what he wants, he steps up next to the smaller man, lifting his hands to pull off his shirt. As the shirt falls to the ground his eyes roam all over the smaller man, taking in every single detail. When he feels that he has looked his fill, he steps the rest of the way up, hands hesitantly touching his skin, starting at his shoulders and working his down. He alternates between skimming his finger tips and kneading the muscles, enjoying the way they feel beneath his finger tips as he works his way down the short man’s body.

When he reaches the top of the shorter man’s trousers he bites his lip as he sets to unfastening them. Once they are open he groans and drops to his knees kissing his way across his partner stomach and lower chest before he moves on to kissing each inch of skin as he reveals it. Pushing his trousers and pants down he noses at the doctors tightly curled fluff of sandy-blonde surrounding his partner’s thickening cock.

“Gnmmmm,” he groans as he inhales deeply, enjoying the musky scent of the younger man’s arousal. He did this, not someone else, not something else, but him. Perhaps he is not as undesirable as he thinks he is.

“Myt, damn it, you’re killing me here,” the younger man moans, once more shortening his name in that weird way he had texted him once.

Gripping the doctors hips so he does not move, he holds him still before running his tongue from tip to base, before swirling it around his bollocks for a moment. He pays careful attention to the various noises and ways he moves, quickly learning what makes John beg for more, sigh in contentment, or groan in frustration.

He delights in the power he feels, it is complete different than the power he is used to in his professional life. It is more personal, more thrilling, makes him think for the first time in his life that perhaps he is not undesirable as a person. Sure there had been plenty who would have slept with him for political favors, but he never wanted that. He wanted this.

Humming happily he continues to suck on the younger man in delight.

*o-O-o*

 _John’s POV_  
Dinner was amazing. His auburn-haired politician had sent a car for him just a little bit after he got done cleaning up after work. Since he was not sure of the type of establishment the older man would pick, he dug out some of his nicer clothes, nice black slacks and matching button down, with a light blue jumper. Despite the fact he was dressed in almost his best outfit besides the funeral suit, he still feels out of place. However the staff treats him with the same formal grace as they treat Mycroft. It seems that his date actually knows everyone here.

When he squeezes the older man’s hand over the table he actually expects him to withdraw it. For the most part they have stayed in, rarely going in public together. This is actually their first actual date where he was not cooking for the older man. He is shocked when the politician decides to gently rub the back of his knuckles and he has an immediate reaction, arousal pooling low in his belly. All through dinner the politician flirts with him, the look in his eyes full of heat and desire, a promise for a very pleasurable night.

By the end of dinner he is feeling a bit over heated but has not had a chance to flirt back more than a few light touches here and there, particularly since conversation is kept light.

As soon as they are in the car and the back is shut off from the front, he pins the older man to his seat, straddling his hips and rubbing their groining together as he proceeds to kissing him, deep hungry kisses with his tongue tracing every inch of his mouth. Their tongues dancing together and even sucking Mycroft’s tongue into his mouth to suck on it for a few moments, while his hands untie the politician’s tie and unbutton the top of his collar. As soon as the collar is open he kisses his way across his jaw and down his throat. At the base of his throat, in the pulse point hallow he sets to licking, lapping, and sucking on it until he has the auburn-haired man arching into his touch. Hand gripping his hips as the two of them end up rubbing together further, friction causing him to moan into his partner’s skin, and enjoying the moan he gets in response.

When the car stops he refastens Mycroft’s collar but does not bother with the tie, leaving that for the politician who pockets it instead.

Getting out of the vehicle, they run into Mrs. Hudson who updates him on her plans while ignoring Mycroft. He understands what her issue with the older man is but does not want to correct her because he thinks it could be dangerous. As soon as they are within the flat’s front door, he has the politician pinned to the door, hands roaming as he kisses him long and hard, with even more passion than when they in the car.

With fumbling hands both of them set to undressing the other, only they have to break apart for a minute when his auburn-haired lover pulls his jumper off. Back to the kissing they go until they are both breathless.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and shut the door?” he suggests when they break apart to breath for a minute.

Up the stairs they go, and just inside the door he makes sure that he had read the expression in the older man’s eyes right, that he really did want to continue on past the exploring and touch. Once Mycroft has confirmed that he goes to strip only the older man says one simple word but the way he reaches says so much more. So he lets him strip off his shirt, trying to ignore the part of his mind that is embarrassed by the scars that he knows crisscross his body, but mostly the large one on his shoulder from where he got shot.

His partner on the other hand touches him like he is something special, something precious. Fingers light and gentle as they skim the scar tissue and just the right amount of pressure as they press the clear parts of his skin. He delights in the expression of pleasure and joy flickering across the older man’s face, and even more so in the fact that slowly his eyes are losing that uncertain look.

When his lover unfastens his pants he cannot help the groan that escapes him, and that groaning shifts into moaning when the taller man drops to his knees before him. Long body swaying in pleasure as he kisses, licks, and touches every inch of his stomach. That erection that had started over dinner is back in full force and he wants nothing more than to grab the dark-red hair and hold him still while he fucks his mouth. Instead he holds still and continues to let the auburn-haired genius figure out what he likes and wants to do.

“Myt, damn it, you’re killing me here,” he groans as his hips stutter in need as the older man sniff at him, nose running along his length.

The first lick to his cock after his pants and trousers are removed is tentative but there is nothing tentative about the licks that follow that, just as there is nothing hesitant about the sucking and nearly swallowing him. Soon enough he feels the peak rushing towards him and he blindly reaches between their bodies, seeking that spot just between balls and cock that can be pressed to keep him from actually coming. He wants this night to last long than that, and he is not a teenager any more despite how quickly he is peaking.

After riding out his dry orgasm, Mycroft slowly stands giving him a curious look that is also a bit hurt.

“Why did you stop yourself?” he inquires in a hesitant voice as if he is worried about the answer.

Leaning forward and up to kiss him, he answers, “Because I want to last a bit longer, if you are not against the idea I would like to sink in you at some point tonight and I am not as young as I once was.”

Swallowing hard, the politician’s eyes dilate even further, “I, yes, oh yes,” he answers after a few moments, “That I would love.” Blushing he looks down before asking, “I would like to…” his voice trails off but he gets the general idea.

“Whatever it is you are thinking feel free,” he answers giving the taller man a quick hug before kicking off his shoe and turning his attention to the clothing remaining on his lover.

Without warning, the taller man spins him around, pressing him against his chair that he had gotten closer to while he was taking his shoes off.

Pressing against his back he can feel every single solid inch of the politician who starts by pushing so he is leaning against the chair, using his arms to brace him upright while he kisses and explores the back of his neck, shoulders, and then proceeds to working his way down. He knows he is making all sorts of noises but doesn’t bother controlling himself since he also knows that Mrs. Hudson is gone and it seems to be reassuring his lover that yes he does want to continue.

When Mycroft get's to the point where he can no longer fold himself to reach the taller man drops back down onto his knees before pulling his cheeks apart and licking a straight path from the top of his ass down to the tiny, puckering hole. He’ll make sure to give him a good massage later to make sure that none of the muscles cause him problems. Right now however he is too busy keening as that talented tongue traces around his entrance, loosening the muscles with his saliva before his tongue slowly works his way in.

Thank God he decided to make sure he was clean earlier cause otherwise this might be a bit odd. He had also made sure to be prepared and gasps out, “Lube is in the small drawer,” he motions to his little table.

Without pausing from his ministrations, the taller man reaches sideways blindly, pulling the drawer open and feeling around for a bit before emerging with the lube in his hand.

Still keening, his hips start rocking despite his best efforts to stay still and the feel of that tongue moving in and out nearly makes him come.

“Are you going to lick me all night or fuck me?” he eventually demands as he reaches down to pinch that spot again. Really at this rate they are not going to make it to him inside his partner.

He can feel the satisfied smirk against his ass as the older man finally stops, sitting back on his heels and starting at his run. “I see you were prepared for something occurring out here.”

“Hell yes, it is best to always be prepared.” He replies breathlessly.

“Good.” The politician remarks as he opens the lube and spreads a fair amount over his fingers according to the sound of it. He can feel the intense focus as the older man rubs it around his hole for a minute before sinking a single finger in.

Groaning, he arches back into the contact only to have Mycroft use his other arm to press him against the chair so he cannot move.

Slowly, with far too much patience the older man works his hole further open, occasionally he leans forward to nibble on his ass. By the time Mycroft feels he is ready, he is keening once more, really ready to be sinking in him and enjoying every minute of it. Standing, the taller man lines himself up carefully, before pressing just the broad head of his penis within the first ring, falling forward so that he is bracing himself on either side of him using the chair to support both their body weights as he work his way in.

Both of them gasp when the politician bottoms out, “God, Mycroft, please,” he moans as he pushes backwards into the contact.

Nipping at the side of his good shoulder the older man moans and begins to thrust, slowly at first before quickly picking up speed. Not long after that the taller man is coming, filling him full of come before just about collapsing against his back.

Still hard, he debates about putting off his plans but decides to continue on for the moment, just to be careful about it.

Carefully slipping out of the taller man’s grasps, they come apart with a wet pop before he turns and tilts his head upwards kissing him long and deep.

“ Come on you, let’s go up to bed.” he remarks softly.

Confusion colors his lover’s face as he queries “What about you?”

Grinning mischievously he replies, “I did not say to sleep.”

A flush covers his auburn-haired lover’s face at that and the two of them quickly make their way upstairs. Every step feels a bit off with the semen dripping out of his ass and his ass feels like it has been split open but he is good with both feelings. Tonight is not about his pleasure. It’s about Mycroft’s. At least in his mind it is.

In his bedroom he gently pushes the taller man spread eagle across the bed before he straddles his hips so that their groins are pressing together while he leans forward to begin kissing and rubbing every single inch he can reach. As he kisses the older man, he murmurs every little thing that he enjoys about him, everything from how brilliant he is to the fact he is gorgeous to look at with his milky skin, freckles, and auburn hair. He takes great pleasure in teasing his nipples until they are hard little nubs of nerves before moving down his rib cage, tongue tracing each rib slowly. When he reaches the junction between torso and thigh he traces it with the flat of his tongue as well, delighting in every noise that escapes him. The thing that really makes him happy is when Mycroft gets hard again, swelling into a core of velvety steel once more. Curious about their combined tastes he licks the older man’s cock clean before working his way down to his balls and playing with each in turn.

Glancing up, he enjoys the look of rapture on the normally tight-laced politician’s face. He rejoices in the way his hands are twisting in the sheets and his hips are moving in need. Soon he will fulfill that need, but not quite yet.

Reaching over to the side of the bed, he drags one of the spare pillows he had made sure to have for just this purpose over and shoves it under the taller man’s hips so he can lift them a bit up before he goes to work doing some rimming of his own.

He does not stop and reach for the lube until the politician is begging, voice breaking and breathless in his need. At that point he uses the lube to prepare him, making sure to brush against his prostate with his finger as he works him open and grinning in pleasure as the shout of need that simple action causes.

Kissing either side of his thigh, he shift upwards in order to stretch and kiss Mycroft full on the mouth as his cock slowly works its way inside.

The tight heat surrounding him is so much different than when he is within woman but it feels right. When he is sure that his lover is ready he begins a slow glide, in and out, getting deeper with each in thrust until he has bottomed out. Shifting his angle a bit, he makes sure that the tip of his cock drags across the older man’s prostate as he proceeds to fucking him into the bed, enjoying every single moan, groan, and keening noise that escapes him.

“Ja-ohn!” the older man gasps in need, arching up towards him.

After some careful balancing, he reaches between them to grab the older man’s cock and stroke it in time with his thrusts. Soon enough the both of them are coming, his hips pistoning back and forth. As he fills the genius and the genius covers the front of them.

Afterwards he holds himself still for a few minutes to allow their breath to come back before he carefully withdraws, feeling the wince as he does so. Getting up, he carefully stagers to the bathroom at the bottom of the stairs to collect a warm, wet flannel before returning to the bedroom after cleaning himself up.

He smiles at the sight that greets him, the auburn haired genius rolled on his side, legs tucked partly up and drowsing. Carefully he cleans his lover up before pulling the comforter up from the foot of the bed where he had shoved it that morning and covering them both up.

Reaching over he turns off the small light on the night table before wrapping a loose arm around Mycroft’s waist and kissing him gently on the shoulder, “Goodnight Myt, sleep well,” he murmurs.

“Night John,” the politician replies sleepily.

In the morning he is the first to awaken though that is not overly surprising. Stretching carefully, he notices he is a bit sore in ways he is not normally sore but it is a good kind of soreness. Carefully scooting out of bed, he pulls on his pants before going down to the kitchen to make tea and a light breakfast. He had noticed that his lover did not eat much in the morning. Actually he never eats much of anything.

Once the tray with their breakfast and teas is made, he carefully makes his way upstairs to the bedroom, setting the tray on his night stand and kissing the politician awake gently.

As Mycroft groggily sits up, he goes over to his dresser and pulls his surprise out, it had just arrived two days ago so this was the first time he had a chance to actually give it to him.

“Morning Myt,” he murmurs when he gets back to the bed, kissing him long and slow.

“Good morning John,” the politician replies before titling his head to the side and querying, “Why do you call me Myt?”

Smiling, he sits down next to him as he answers, “Because you’re my Mycroft, it’s something of a pet name, meant in affection. Do you want me to stop?”

For a moment the older man thinks about it before slowly shaking his head, “Just do not call me that when others are around.”

Grinning he nods, “I can do that. I brought breakfast and tea, plus I have a gift for you,” he tells the auburn-haired man as he hands him the small box.

Curious, the politician accepts the box opening it up and staring. “Why…?”

“I noticed that when you are going on trips that might end badly you have taken my tags with you. So I decided to give you your own tags. One is actually from my original set, the other was made just for you.” he answers kissing the taller man’s shoulder softly.

Lifting them up he quickly clips the chain before reaching over to grab their breakfast, “Come on you, time to eat.”

Kissing him long and slow Mycroft murmurs, “Thank you,” in a rather heartfelt voice, he doesn’t even argue about eating, simply does so with a smile, their bodies pressed close together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, she is the one who drew the tags for me, Thanks again!


	4. Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall

_Mycroft’s POV_  
He was curled up on the bed with his doctor wrapped in his arms as he considers the information that he had received right before leaving the office the night before and the orders he had already issued because of it. It had been brought to his attention that his brother was in Serbia. According to one of his operatives he had been there for the last several days. He was being interrogated, a polite way of saying tortured. So he had ordered Anthea to arrange a back story and get everything ready so he could go in and get him out, so he could bring him home.

According to the last time his brother had sent in a report all of the major players from Moriarty’s web were either dead or imprisoned. Most of the minor players were out of the game as well. Those that were could not be removed yet were being watched so that soon as they did something that could get them removed they would be. That meant that his brother could come home, that he could return to London, could return to Baker Street, could return to John.

John…

He was going to lose his doctor, his lover. Nobody had ever selected him when given a chose between him and his brother. Why would John be any different? The last sixteen months had been better than any other time in his life. For the first time he felt like he had somewhere he belonged, somewhere where he felt like was home, a refuge, and it was going to all vanish the moment his brother got home.

Snuggling a little closer to his lover, pulling the blonde tight against his chest, he reflects on the last sixteen months. His favorite moments had been the quiet ones when it was just the two of them curled up in front of a fire.

Or the night that he had gotten back from a nine day trip to China to deal with a situation that had left him physically exhausted. He had walked through the front door of the flat to discover the doctor making his favorite meal, the flat a bit warmer than normal so that he could strip off the heavy suit and just relax. After dinner the doctor had lead him to the bathroom, where he had prepared a steaming hot bath with a light mixture of herbs designed to relax his muscles and while he soaked, blushing the entire time, the doctor had carefully rubbed and massaged each and every part of his body, leaving him feeling boneless. Afterwards they had gone to bed, just curled up together on the new mattress he had purchased for them to share after he had started staying at the flat.

Then there was that dinner party that he had been required to attend and had asked John to accompany him to. The doctor had not liked the idea of dealing with all of those politicians but had agreed anyways, accompanying him in a well fitted dark blue that complimented the suit he had been wearing the night of their first dinner, and that night after he discovered what the doctor was wearing. Instead of being a tedious affair it had ended up being an enjoyable night. Contrary to his claims of being horrid at politics, the doctor had managed to charm every single person he came in contact that night, he had even earned a few new contacts and allies, ones that normally would never have teamed up with him. Every chance he got the doctor had flirted with him, little touches and glances that had his blood boiling. By the time they got home it was a race to see who could undress who faster before they had tumbled into bed together.

His attention is drawn out of his mind as the doctor stretches against him, smaller body rubbing up against him the most delicious ways. Smiling, he kisses the back of the smaller man’s neck murmuring, “Good morning.”

Wiggling his bottom against his groin, the doctor responds, “Morning love.”

Smirking, he presses back, his cock sliding against the crack of his lover’s ass. “Sleep well?” he inquires softly, maybe they should have one last morning together. He is certain that after tonight, once his brother is back this will be done.

Smiling, the younger man lifts his hand off his hip and kisses the back of his knuckles, sending a thrill of pleasure through him. Slowly getting hard his hand drifts down the younger man’s chest after the blonde releases his hand. He strokes the still mostly firm muscles, enjoying the ripple of movement beneath his finger tips.

“Gmmmm, that feels good,” the doctor murmurs happily, shifting slightly backwards so that he can reach a hand behind him and stroke along his side as well.

Still smirking, he starts to slowly kiss the back of his lover’s neck, tracing the bones of his spine. In response the blonde allows his head to fall forward, giving him better access. Over the next few minutes he continues to stroke the younger man’s tan skin, down to his cock that is getting just as hard as his own.

“Bathroom?” he queries, just to make sure that things are not going to get short stalled by his love needing to go.

“I’m good, went before bed in case we woke up feeling lusty,” he replies with a soft chuckle, rubbing his bottom against him.

Licking his way down his lover’s back he swirls his tongue around the indent of every vertebrae. When he gets to the base of his lovers spine, at the top of the younger man’s ass, he narrows his tongue before running it down the crack. Shifting his positioning, he uses his hands to pull the younger man’s cheeks a part before going to town on swirling his tongue around his small, puckered hole. He is tight again because it has been a few months since the last time he topped. As a general rule he is a bottom, but just sometimes, he likes to be the one pushing inside John’s tight heat, it makes him feel connected. Groaning, his doctor rocks his hip backwards, making low keening noises of need.

He spends several minutes tracing his lover’s hole, before he works his tongue inside him, pressing against the muscles to loosen them up, working carefully around the tight ring. When he feels that John is as loose as he can get with only a tongue he reaches over the smaller man to grab the lube off the night stand before smearing some all over his fingers and carefully working the smaller man the rest of the way open by slipping his first two fingers within him and scissoring them until he feels open enough to slip a third one in as well.

“Myt, please, more,” his younger lover groans trying to fuck his himself on his fingers.

Smirking, he licks a long trail up his lover’s back until their hips are lined up. Carefully gripping the smaller man’s hips, he slips a leg between his before lining himself up against his hole and slowly sinking into him.

“God you feel so damned good,” the younger man pants as he slowly pulls out before thrusting back in.

He makes it a point to brush against his lover’s prostate. Reaching across the smaller man again he opens the drawer beside the bed, hand feeling around until his fingers come in contact with the cock ring that the two of them store there. Smirking, he pulls it out and carefully reaches down John’s chest in order to carefully put it on him.

As he does so the younger man groans, pushing back hard once.

“I want you to bugger me in the shower after this,” he whispers into the blonde’s ear.

Groaning again, the doctor nods in response, his head dipping down as he does so.

For the next several minutes the only sounds to fill the air are the low moans, groans, and keening noises that escape both of them. Eventually he rolls John onto his front, before pulling him up on his knees. As he does that, he rolls with him coming up on his knees, never losing the connection between them. Holding the younger man’s hips still he proceeds to change to heavy thrusts, making sure to drag his cock over his prostate on every withdrawal and thrust.

When John suddenly tightens his internal muscles, he finds himself hammering forward once hard and holding perfectly still. “Ja-ohn!” he gasps out, spilling inside the younger man’s ass.

For a few minutes they stay there, his larger body carefully braced above his smaller lover before he slowly withdraws. He enjoys the sight of his ejaculation dripping out of the younger man’s ass. Leaning forward, he runs his tongue over it, tasting the flavor before sitting back and helping him to sit up.

“Shower?” he asks titling his head to the side.

“Sounds good,” the younger man replies with smile at him before he leans forward to kiss him lingeringly.

Carefully the two men get up, though their legs are sort of wobbly and John nearly falls at first as his bad leg cramps up. Concerned, he studies his partner and notices it is only a momentary problem before they walk downstairs to the shower. While the shower is getting heated up, John settles him against the sink, and plunders his mouth in a long sensual kiss that has him panting and half hard by the end of it.

“Someone is feeling frisky today,” the doctor murmurs merrily, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Sighing he states, “I have to leave for few days either tonight or tomorrow and I wanted to spend some time with you beforehand.”

Kissing him gently, his doctor comments, “Alright Myt, please be careful.”

Feeling the water, he discovers it is the temperature that both of them prefer so he climbs in, wiggling his ass at the younger man in invitation.

Growling softly, the smaller man gets in the shower behind him, using his right foot to push his legs a bit apart so that he is a bit lower. He can feel the cock ring still on his partner as he rubs his cock up and down his ass for a few minutes.

“Do you want me to prepare you or just go?” the doctor breaths against his ear, one hand holding his hip, the other stroking his ass.

He thinks about it for a moment, eyes closed as he enjoys the feel of the water and the way his lover’s hands feel. Pleasure-pain is something he appreciates before he has to take trips because it leaves him feeling it for several days following. Since this will probably be the last time his doctor does this, he wants it to last as long as it can.

“Just go,” he responds, pushing backwards towards the heavy cock.

“Alright,” John replies, he can hear the hint of a smile.

There is a soft thud as the cock ring lands on the floor outside of the tub. Then his doctor’s short fingers are there at his hips, pulling his ass cheeks open, before lining himself up and sliding in with a series of shallow thrusts.

“Ggnnnn,” he groans at the full feeling, the slightly painful stretching, the fullness of him. “Hard, please John,” he moans.

He can feel the smaller man setting his feet, a moment later he is bracing himself against the wall, holding the safety bar while the doctor pounds him. The bathroom is filled with the sounds of the water running over them. With every other hard thrust his blonde lover brushes his prostate. He is only mildly surprised when he gets hard again, thinking it is his bodies way of letting him enjoy this last day, and he moans in pleasure when John slips a hand around his waist to take him in hand and pull him off in time with his thrusts. Soon both of them are coming, him all over the wall, John deep within him.

Leaning against the wall, he pants for breath while his doctor leans against him, the water still running down both their bodies. Slowly the smaller man straightens, carefully pulling out to try and not hurt him.

Reaching over he grabs a flannel and fills it with body wash before turning to slowly wash every inch of John, kissing each inch of skin as the water rinses it clean before he offers it to the blonde.

With a worried look, his lover returns the favor, gently asking, “Are you alright Myt? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

He smiles at the younger man reassuringly, answering, “You did not,” he kisses the smaller man softly. “Just not looking forward to this particular job, however I will have fond memories of this morning to focus on instead.”

“Alright, as long as you’re sure,” the doctor replies before turning the water off.

He nods and the two of them grab their towels to dry off. Afterwards they head back it the bedroom where both dress, his doctor in house clothes since it is his day off, him in one of his black bespoke suits. While he is gathering everything he will need to take with him, his doctor makes breakfast. It is a quiet and heavy. When they are done eating, both put their dishes in the sick, glancing at his watch he notes that he has five minutes before the car will be here.

“I will text you with whether I will be back tonight or tomorrow.” He tells the smaller man with a smile as he grabs his jacket.

Walking over to him, the doctor nods once, handing him a little box before tilting his head up for a kiss.

A small smile curves his lips when he realizes that the box is full of cookies and other easy to eat snacks, leaning slightly, he kisses the doctor before bidding him good day.

Leaving the flat, he steps onto the curb just as the car pulls up. Moments later he is in the back seat with his assistant as it speeds away.

“Everything is prepared as directed. Took little effort to do some shifting around, I arranged for you to take the place of a well known but rarely seen gun runner.” The dark-haired beauty informs him as they head to the office. “They are expecting you for dinner tomorrow night. I have also gotten the materials requested for the language.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs staring out the window, one hand dancing over his phones buttons as he sends john a text.

-Leaving tonight, be back in two, maybe three days- MH

-Alright, take care Myt- JW

He then hears his assistance phone go off and she chuckles, remarking to him, “I am supposed to make sure you remember to eat at least once a day.”

A sad smile curves his lips as he thinks of his stubborn little doctor.

“Sir, have you considered talking to him?” his assistant asks after a bit.

“There is nothing to talk about, I am well aware I am a second choice not a first.” He replies harshly, voice off even to his own ears.

Sighing, she glares at him over the top of her phone, “Really? Because it was not your brother he pinned to the wall. It was you.”

Bristling, he snaps, “Only because he did not realize until it was too late.”

“Your being foolish Sir, the doctor may care for your brother but he clearly loves you.” she states, he can hear the exasperation in her tone.

“Enough Arabelasa,” he snaps, calling her by her real first name, “This matter is not up for discussion.”

She just about hisses at him, before returning to her phone and he can feel the anger radiating off of her.

Maybe she is right, maybe John would choose him over Sherlock but for how long? His flat makes John uncomfortable, which is why he goes to Baker Street instead. With Sherlock home there would be too much fighting if he was to try and spend time over there. Eventually they would break apart because his doctor would get annoyed and bored from not being able to see him. Best to just expect things to end now while everything is still good rather than later when things have fallen apart. At least that way they can part as friends, though whether they will stay friends once his brother is home is yet to be seen.

At the office he takes the time to get into character after reading up on the person he is supposed to be acting like before turning to his books. Time flies as he prepares and a bit later his PA gives him a sandwich along with one of the muffins from the box of goodies his doctor sent with him.

Sighing, he rubs his temples with his palms, reminding himself that after this trip the doctor will no longer be his.

Not long after that he is changing into his costume and heading to the airport in order to catch his flight. After what seems like a rather short flight he is arriving and it is not long after that he meets the contact before being taken to the compound. He is expected to share dinner with the man in charge and does so barely talking except for what is expected to stay in character.

They are nearly done with dinner when the gun lord asks him, “Would you like to watch our torturer with his prize?”

A cruel smile curves his lips as he nods once, “It would be my pleasure,” he replies.

“Show him to the basement!” the gun lord orders one of the guards who quickly jumps to his feet and waits for him by the door.

Finishing his meal, he thanks the man with a nod before following him out of the massive dining hall and through the building. He memorizes the layout, making sure that they will easily be able to leave tonight when he comes for his brother after the rest of the staff has gone to sleep and the guards are less alert. He has also decided to take trilamine to douse the guards with to get them to do what he wants and rohypnol to give them afterwards to make them forget he was the one who did it.

In the basement he is shown to a large poorly lit room that smells of blood, feces, sweat, and stale water. Hanging between two walls by a set of thick chains and manacles is his younger brother. He is wearing nothing but a loose part of sleeping pants from the looks of them, his back, sides, and arms are all red and ragged, as if brute force is the only technique this fools know. Spotting a chair in the corner he takes a seat and puts his feat up on the little table, sitting back and watching with ease.

For several hours the torture goes on, though it really is nothing more than a beating, a harsh nasty beating. Finally his brother manages to say something to the torture that gets him to leave the room, taking off to go discover if his wife really was cheating on him.

Standing slowly, he states in Serbian, “So, my friend. Now it’s just you and me.” As he moves closer he continues to speak in Serbian, “You have no idea the trouble it took to find you.” Grabbing the back of his brother’s head carefully and tugging it backwards he softly informs him in English, “Now listen to me, it is time to come home, there is a situation to deal with. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear. I will be back tonight to let you loose.”  


His brother smiles through the pain as he allows his head to drop down.

Turning on his heel he returns to the hall and the guard escorts him back upstairs. He spends a few hours visiting with his host before retiring to the room he has been given to use for the night at four am he tucks the various supplies he will need into his pockets before silently making his way through the compound to the basement, he is mildly surprised that there are no guards by the inner door or watching his room. He is not worried about the camera system because he has already had Q hack the system and is making sure that he is not seen leaving his room or letting his brother go.

Reaching the basement he discovers the first and only guards that he has to deal with and quickly blows the trilamine all over their faces so they become very open to suggestion, he then pulls out two vials of rohypnol, giving one to each guard before ordering them to drink. As soon as they do so, he orders them to look straight ahead and wait for orders.

Slipping in the room, he quickly strides over to his brother and uses his lock picking kit in order to unfasten him from the wall. He then pulls a set of clothing including a pair of lightweight boots from out of his various pockets and thanks the fact that he is wearing such a big coat.

“Anthea is waiting for you outside, the guards are going to help you there,” he tells his younger brother, a bit of concern and sadness at the shape his brother is in filling him.

“Thank you,” Sherlock mutters tiredly, “Not sure I can walk right yet.”

He nods once, helping the younger man to dress before he remarks, “I know, that’s why the guards are going to take you outside and hand you over to her.” Afterwards he turns and heads to the doors, stepping out and blowing just a little more trilamine in both guards faces before ordering them in Serbian, “You are to carry the prisoner outside without damaging him further, there you will give him to the waiting men before returning to your posts.”

Both nod, a blank look on their faces as they do as ordered. He follows them upstairs, making sure they do as directed before dosing them one more time with trilamine and heading back to his room where he changes into sleeping clothes and climbs into bed. He predicts he has four hours before they realize what is wrong.

Four minutes later he gets a message from his assistant.

-Merchandise is in transport.- A

Smiling he deletes the message before he lies down and closes his eyes. He will not sleep but he will get some rest, he is sure that tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Sure enough it is just after eight am when the alarm is sounded. He spends almost three hours reassuring his host that he has not left the room since the night before and all of the camera systems show the same things. Eventually he concludes the deal he is there under the pretense of before leaving.

By eight pm that night he is on a plane with his brother and they are on their way back to London. Sherlock is sleeping, a combination of exhaustion and a set of strong drugs allowing him to sleep through the transport. When they land they are taken by one of his cars to his offices in the old MI6 building. As they are going he sends off a text message to John.

-Please grab your medical bag and get in the car with Anthea.- MH

With that message sent, he closes his eyes and says good bye to his relationship with John. He will not fight the inevitable. Accepting the fact that he is destined to be alone for the rest of his life. At least he has the last sixteen months of everything shared between himself and the doctor to sustain him in the years to come. Maybe if he is lucky they will still be friends. He will miss all of the cuddling, dinners, time spent together, and easy acceptance that the younger man has shown him.

-Alright. Can you tell me what’s going on?- JW

-You will be informed of the important information upon arrival.- MH

-Alright. JW

-Ready- JW


	5. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Any parts from the shows transcript have been lovingly gotten from Ariane DeVere’s live journal because she was awesome enough to make a complete set. 
> 
> More thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl and Amythe3lder for chatting and helping me focus.

_John’s POV_  
This morning when he woke up he had decided to go to the adult store and look around, while he was there he had found a set of anal plugs that he liked. He was pretty sure Mycroft would appreciate the surprise, and since he was due back tomorrow, getting them today would allow him to get used to it, at least the smallest of the set. After purchasing them he heads home.

After using the restroom and taking a shower he lubes his fingers before carefully working his hole a bit open before he grabs the smallest of the butt plugs and coats it in lube. Biting his lip he takes his time working it into his ass, frowning in concentration as he does so.

He spends most of the day adjusting to it, finding that it feels odd and sometimes, depending on how he sits down it rubs against his prostate, making him groan. He ends up spending most of the day in semi-arousal from the stimulation and gets a hang of taking it out and putting it back in by removing it every time he has to use the bathroom whether he has to shit or not. The most interesting part of his day was when he made his meals because it seemed like no matter how he stood it rubbed him in interesting ways.

Just after dinner he is surprised when he gets a text message from his lover.

-Please grab your medical bag and get in the car with Anthea.- MH

It is the first time his auburn-haired lover has asked him for medical help. Worried, he quickly response to the text.

-Alright. Can you tell me what’s going on?- JW

While he is waiting for a response he sets to collecting everything he might need, shoving it into his old bag and making sure that everything is there. He has just finished making sure when his phone goes off again.

-You will be informed of the important information upon arrival.- MH

-Alright.- JW

He quickly response, once he finishes zipping his pack he sends his next message.

-Ready.- JW

Heading outside he steps onto the curb just as the sleek black car pulls up and the back door opens for him to slide in. Quickly glancing to make sure that it is Anthea in the car, he slides in, shutting the door behind him, his bag settled on the floor by his feet.

“Hello Anthea,” he greets the beautiful woman, “He’s alright right?”

“He’ll be fine,” she replies, looking up over her phone she continues speaking, “Don’t allow him to push you away, he was just about having one of those moments he does not like to mention before we left for our last mission.”

He nods once seriously, eyes narrowing as he considers her words.

Why would Mycroft push him away? He thought they were past that point in their relationship. That the politician was beginning to trust him not to just walk or tell him to leave. They were going to have to have that long chat that Mycroft has managed to avoid for the last sixteen months. Part of him wonders why the older man has been avoiding that talk, just as they mostly kept their relationship private, with most people thinking they had formed a friendship after the politician’s brother’s death.

Wait a second. Sherlock. That’s the problem. Mycroft is worried about what is going to happen when his brother gets home. There has been such a long history of problems between the two of them that his lover probably thinks he is just going to put him aside for the younger man. That means that he must think he is a second choice. Damn it. They really are going to have that chat.

“Thanks Anthea,” he murmurs distractedly as he continues to think about the conversation he apparently needs to have with his partner.

She nods, her gaze returning to her phone.

When they get to their destination, he is only mildly surprised to see that it is not the normal office for Mycroft. This place is colder, made of ancient stones and metal, designed for protection and to be forgotten. Since he does not know if it carries the same silence rules as the Club or not, he just stays quiet out of curiosity. He can ask his politician about it later.

“In here,” she directs him after leading him to a heavy metal door, “Remember what I said.”

He nods once, a serious expression on his face. She had said his politician would be alright but not to let him push him away, that told he might be the injured one. No matter what he discovers on the other side of this door it will not change the facts of their relationship. Even if he has to get Anthea to help him make the politician see reason.

Slipping through the heavy door, his eyes automatically scan everything looking for exits, dangers, and threats. Instead what he finds is an unconscious Sherlock curled up lightly on a cot bed and his lover standing stiffly, staring at a wall.

His eyes sweep over the younger man’s form, noticing every bit of damage done to him. Sighing softly he walks over to the tall man, setting is medical bag quietly on the floor beside his flatmate before continuing to where his lover is standing. Stepping beside him, he studies the auburn-haired genius’ profile for a moment, taking in every line of stress, aggravation, and worry on that beloved face. Knowing that his realization in the car was correct, that his lover thought it would end because Sherlock is home.

“Are you alright?” he asks the oldest one in the room with a slightly concerned tone.

Startled, the auburn-haired man gives him a searching look before replying, “I will be fine. Please attend to him while he is unconscious, the drugs in his system will wear off soon.”

He nods once, “Alright Myt, we are having a long talk when we’re done here.”

Again the politician gives him a searching look before returning to his contemplation with a sharp nod.

With that his attention turns to his flatmate and he sets to taking care of him. Silently and carefully stripping him the loose clothing he is wearing in order to clean and care for each injury. He treats this situation the exact same way that he would treat an injured soldier, making sure to be as gentle as possible while he does so. His friend has four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, more bruises and cuts than he plans to count, at least three strained tendons in his left leg, and a broken right wrist. When he is done with all of that he straightens out, studying each of the tall men before nodding once.

“He’s not going to want me to know, so I am going home, I expect you as soon as you are done here.” He tells the auburn-haired genius with complete seriousness.

Blinking, the taller man nods slowly, a sad expression on his face.

Giving him a quick hug, he cups the taller man’s jaw in his hands and pulls his face down for a gentle kiss, “Until later Myt,” before turning and leaving.

He then steadily turns and grabs his bag before heading out of the door, his leg acting up though he is ignoring it. Outside the door he discovers Anthea standing there, her dark eyes locked on the door thoughtfully.

“I’m to show you home,” she remarks, the comment so very like when they had first met years before.

His lips curl in a partial smile as he nods and follows her out of the old building, in the car he comments, “Make sure he is at the flat as soon as he is done taking care of Sherlock, I don’t care if you have to knock him out to do it, but he is coming home tonight.”

Smirking, she nods once, “Are you ordering that as his lover or his doctor?” she queries lightly.

“Officially as his doctor, unofficially as his lover,” he answers.

“Good, as his doctor I will make sure he has tomorrow off as well.” she remarks before returning to her phone.

Chuckling, he gives a small shake of his head before falling silent, watching everything going on outside. As they pass a Tesco he frowns thoughtfully when he remembers that he did not get to the shopping like he had originally planned. Not long after they are pulling up to the flat and he is getting ready to get out.

“Do you need something delivered?” she queries, “for them?”

He smirks, nodding, “Yeah, we do.”

“Text me a list and it will be here within the hour,” she directs him before shutting the door.

“Thanks,” he tells her again, getting a chuckle out of how many times he has said that today.

Going into the flat he discovers his phone on the table and remembers leaving it sit there, there is two new messages that he listens to. One is from Greg telling him that they need to talk. The other is from Mrs. Hudson telling him her trip has been extended by a few more days. He sighs in relief and determines to call Greg tomorrow after he has dealt with the brothers.

Looking around he determines what all he needs to deal with within the flat before they get home and considers setting to work, but decides to text Anthea with his request list first. Some of it is medical supplies so he can take care of Sherlock, part of it is comfort foods for Mycroft, and some of it just stuff needed in the flat. Once that is done, he heads to the bathroom, carefully removing his anal plug before using the bathroom and cleaning himself back up before he puts it back in.

Now more than ever he is certain his lover will appreciate the surprise.

He has just left the bathroom when the doorbell goes off and he heads downstairs in order to answer it. At the door is the two of his politician’s minions with the supplies that he requires. Smiling, he waves them in because it is easier and directs them were to put the bags before bidding them farewell. Once they are gone he sets to preparing the flat for the arrival of the brothers.

*o-O-o*

 _Mycroft’s POV_  
After John has left he heads to his office in this building, leaving a message with an intern to alert his brother when he awake without telling him it is his brother. He is going to get some paperwork done, it is the only thing he can do or he will go into a panic attack. Right now he is terrified of what is going to happen tonight when he leaves here, how he is going to handle going back to the flat when his brother is home, how it is going to feel when the younger man sends him away. Closing his eyes he forces himself past that train of thought and on to his work.

Nearly three hours later his brother enters the room, redressed in the same clothes he had arrived in.

“Did you have one of the incompetent doctors work on me?” his brother demands as he enters the room.

Glancing up from his paperwork, he presses a button calling for an intern in order to give him directives. While the interns are rushing to do as order the two brothers sit there in silence. He is returns to reading his papers while his brother looks at the stack of newspapers that he has regarding all of the work that his brother has been doing. A few minutes later a barber’s chair is assembled for his brother to be seated in while his barber enters with his supplies and sets to work cleaning him up.

Once all of the interns are gone he remarks, “You have been busy, haven’t you?”

Moving the newspaper that he was reading while getting a hair cur his brother frowns at him before returning to his reading.

Silence falls for a few more minutes before he comments, “Quite the busy little bee,” with a soft chuckle.

Again his brother lowers the newspaper to glare at him as the younger man states, “Moriarty’s network – took me two years to dismantle it.”

Tilting his head he queries, “And you’re confident you have?”

“The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle,” his brother snaps disdainfully.

“Yes. You got yourself in deep there,” he comments checking the file to make sure he has the right name for the gun lord, “with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme.”

Smirking, his brother states, “Colossal.”

He shuts the file, sitting back and watching his brother as he states, “Anyway, you’re safe now.”

“Hmmm,” his brother grunts.

A small smirk curves his lips as he goads his brother, “A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss.” He had actually already been thanked by his brother when he was in pain, he does not expect a second one but still it is fun to pick on him a little bit. He had missed their banter.

Blankly his brother queries, “For what?”

Impishly he replies, “For wading in.”

Waving off the barber, he can just about feel the glare he knows that will be coming his way here shortly.

“In case you’d forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu,” he continues, as if he does not realize the glare is coming.

His brother sits partially up, glaring at him in anger as he responds, “’Wading in’? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp!”

He frowns indignantly, annoyed his brother is skipping the fact he was undercover, “I got you out.”

Shaking his head, his brother snaps, “No – I got me out. Why didn’t you intervene sooner?”

“Oh? And how’s that since I had to picks the locks holding you,” he responds, keeping his cool despite his anger before he answers the question put to him, “Well, I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything.”

Glowering, his brother remarks, “You were enjoying it.”

He internally flinches, hating the reminder of how bad his relationship is with his brother, he never would have wished that on him, “Nonsense.” Of course a small part of him does have to admit he is a little happy for the pain, it is just desserts for the pain caused to John, and that just makes him feel guilty since he knows the doctor would not be pleased with that set of feelings.

Still glowering, the younger man grumbles, “Definitely enjoying it.”

Leaning forward on his elbows he implores his brother, “Listen: do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going ‘under cover’, smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise, the people?”

Groaning softly, his brother sits back and closes his eyes and allows the barber to continue, “I didn’t know you spoke Serbian.”

He understands exactly what his brother is not saying with that change of the subject and he allows it, answering, “I didn’t, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan words.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “Took me a couple of hours.”

“Hmmm,” his brother hums, “you’re slipping.”

He smiles tightly, stating, “Middle age, brother mine, comes to us all.” He does not mention that the real problem was he was mourning the loss of his lover and companion, of the one person who had showed him acceptance. That he was trying to avoid a panic attack.

For a long while there is silence while the barber finishes up. He is considering saying something when his assistant knocks twice before slipping in. Within her grasp is a black suit and a white shirt for his brother.

Standing, he moves to exit the room, murmuring, “Leave the brace on your wrist, it’s been broken,” before he steps out with his assistant.

“I have insured that the doctor was delivered home safely,” she tells him.

A sweeping glance tells him that she is not saying something but he does not ask, for now things remain between him and John but he is still certain that will ended when Sherlock walks into the flat. After enough time has passed, he re-enters his office with his assistant close on his heel.

“There is a situation that needs dealt with, a law that I am attempting to stop, but I do not believe it will be possible, you excel at ferreting out information, and that is sorely needed.” He tells his brother before going on to explain the situation that is happening. It is his hope that his brother will do it, this is not his normal type of case but if his brother wants to remain in London and remain independent he will have to help. By the end of the conversation he hopes that it has sunk in, that he will actually be of assistance but some reason does not think it will be that easy, particularly when his brother makes an off handed comment about his shirt.

“What do you think of this shirt?” as he looks at himself in front of a mirror that had been brought in when the barber’s chair was removed.

Exasperated, he exclaims, “Sherlock!”

“I will look into it Mycroft,” the younger man replies as he continues to check himself in the mirror, frowning at the sleek brace holding his wrist. With a glance in the mirror at him, his brother state, “Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart.”

He nods, “Do your best if you please,” he remarks.

Pulling his jacket on his brother remarks, “And what about John Watson?”

He almost chuckles at the exasperated and knowing look at him, waiting to see what his reaction is going to be.

Blankly he questions, “John?”

“Mmm. Have you seen him?” his brother queries distractedly, still studying himself in the mirror.

“Oh, yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips,” he answers with a sarcastic smile, eyes narrowing at his brother. He motions to his assistant to hands over a folder to the younger man. As his brother glances through it he remarks, “I’ve kept a weather eye on him, of course.” Tilting his head to the side he queries, “You haven’t been in touch at all, to prepare him?”

Distractedly his brother responds, “No,” as he continues to look through the paperwork.

He knows that his assistant has made sure there is no record of his relationship with the doctor. Still, he stays quiet and just watches his brother while he closest up the folder before the younger man sets to straightening his jacket.

“I think I’ll surprise John. He’ll be delighted!” his brother remarks gleefully.

A bit cynically he smiles as he questions, “You think so?”

Still a bit distractedly, his brother comments, “Hmm. I’ll pop into Baker Street. Who knows – jump out of a cake.”

He frowns, wishing that his brother was not going there first, he wants a chance to speak with John first. There is no help for it.

His assistant slips out of the room for a moment before returning with his brother’s coat.

The delighted smile that curves his brother’s lips makes him happy even if none of it shows on his face.

*o-O-o*

 _Sherlock’s POV_  
He is very happy to be home, can barely remember how he got away, and maybe his brother had helped because with the way his wrist was busted he could not have picked the lock himself. At the same time he has a hard time thinking so because his brother had sat there and watched him get beaten for several hours before finally telling him he was going home. He vaguely remembers a soothing hand, a gentle voice, a reassuring tone as he was sleeping. He can remember someone carefully undressing him and cleaning his injuries, setting his wrist and his ribs. It was so achingly familiar, he should know who it was but the answer his mind keeps providing him is impossible, there is no way that John was his doctor when John doesn’t even know that he is still alive.

He is excited to finally go home, to finally return to Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson, the Work, and above all John.

While he was gone he had often found himself looking to tell his blogger all of the things he was deducing, his plans and ideas, everything only to discover that the doctor was not there. During one of the long stints he was locked up he came to the realization that after this is done he never wants to be separated from the doctor again. That he is not as married to his work as he thought and desires something more than just the platonic relationship he has shared with him in the past. Of course it meant he had to find a way to convince the doctor to give up women and choose him, though according to the file he had not been dating since his suicide, he had been too depressed. Still, it would be very important for him. He had to ensure that John would never leave him, that he was his.

After a shower, shave, and a clean change of clothes he feels almost like his old self except for the fact his wrist is in a brace, though he is mildly shocked at the fact it is a brace and not a cast. If the bone is broke, why didn’t the doctor cast it? Never mind, not an issue, he will leave the metal brace on and have his blogger check it to make sure it has been set right and is healing right.

Giving a small shake of his head, he barely notices when his brother leaves and his assistant stands there waiting for him.

“I am to take you home,” she remarks, giving him an impatient look.

Part of him wants to grumble just to, but he would rather get back home as fast as possible and this is the best way for that to happen. He is startled when he slides into the car and his brother is sitting their glaring at his phone. Just behind him the dark-haired assistant slides in and shuts the door before tapping her fingers on the dividing glass and the car pulling away from the curb.

A short while later the sleek car is pulling up to his flat and he gets out of the car using the key from his pocket to open the door before bounding in without bothering to say anything to his brother. He sprints up the staircase to the flat in his excitement. At the landing he stops dead in his tracks, just smelling the air, the scent of home. Mrs. Hudson appears to be gone, off visiting family he is sure. It smells like his blogger is cooking breakfast.

Finally gaining control of himself and his excitement he forces himself to step through the door, moving not too quietly to startle the doctor but not too loudly either.

“Hello John,” he murmurs, his voice a deeper than normal baritone.

The smaller man turns to face him, eyes sweeping up and down him while he studies the doctor in exchange. According to the report the doctor is not seeing anyone and yet he knows that is wrong, so why is it not in the file?

Before he has a chance to say anything else the smaller man crosses the room in a few quick steps, his fist connecting with his stomach before a second one connects with his jaw knocking him flat on his ass. He just about flinches when the doctor follows him down, thinking he is going to be hit again but instead he is wrapped in a bear hug.

“You prick, ever pull a stunt like that again and I will kill you myself,” the blonde mutters in his ear as he continues to hug him.

Realizing that there is not going to be another attack he wraps his arms around the doctor as well, rejoicing that the smaller man is still alive, is still healthy. That everything he had done to protect him had not been for nothing.

When a timer goes off in the kitchen, the smaller man lets go, tiredly getting to his feet and glancing at the door with a smile as he heads back to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here Mycroft?” he demands, not wanting to ruin reunion with his blogger and flatmate.

Before his brother has a chance to say anything he hears from the kitchen, “Be nice and sit down Sherlock, I invited him,” as the blogger continues to flicker about. According to the sound of it, the doctor is making a plate with the food that had just finished cooking.

A slight flush covers his brother’s face, and upon a second look he realizes that he is close to having one of his rare panic attacks. John has told him to be nice, that he was invited, so how to get his brother away from the panic without being rude. Though why is his brother so close to an attack?

Tilting his head, he bites his lip as he studies his older brother.

He had not figured out any sort of answer when the doctor comes into the room carrying a tray with two plates of food on it and three teas. Walking over to him the doctor states, “Smaller plate and the last tea is yours, you will eat.”

He flushes, accepting both of them and watching curiously as the doctor settles on the sofa next to Mycroft rather than in his chair. Why is he settling next to Mycroft? For that matter, why is he nearly touching his annoying brother? It is then that it clicks, his eyes widening as he understands what he is seeing.

“I asked you to keep an eye on him, not seduce him!” he snarls, setting his fork down.

As soon as he says it he realizes it is the wrong thing because his brother tenses up, eyes widening as the panic sets in the rest of the way, the very thing he had wanted to avoid happens. Beside his brother, the doctor gets deathly still, his voice soft and deadly when he speaks, the voice he has mentally referred to as the angry captain tone.

“Keep your mouth shut about things you do not know Sherlock. Just sit there and eat your damned breakfast.”

He nods, swallowing hard, slowing using the fork to take another bite but feeling horrified. He thought that his John was not gay? His mind begins to spin as he continues to eat and he barely notices the passage of time.

*o-O-o*

 _Mycroft’s POV_  
He knows, just knows that John’s going to leave him now. Sherlock has just expressed his displeasure. There is no way that the doctor is not going to get rid of him now. He should leave now. Get out of here before it is too late.

Standing blindly, he tries to mutter his farewells only to find he cannot get very far because there is a firm grasp on his wrist. Still unseeing, he tugs on his arm, trying to get the doctor to let go only to be lead to the upstairs bedroom. He is just about hyperventilating with the need to escape when John wraps his arms around him, pulling him close and just holding him.

Closing his eyes, he buries his head against the smaller man’s shoulder, arms coming around him to hold the doctor. He does not know how long they stay like that until he has finally regained control, but he is grateful for the way John simply holds him.

“Better now?” the doctor softly inquires, kissing his temple before resting his head atop his.

He nods, not moving his head from the spot it is tucked in.

“I want you to listen closely to me Mycroft Holmes,” the younger man murmurs into his ear, “I am not just giving up on you because Sherlock is home. You are mine, understand?”

He nods once, blinking in shock, and staying quiet. It is hard to believe because he is never chosen over Sherlock. He is certain that the doctor will change his mind eventually.

“Do you understand?” the doctor growls in his ear again.

“I, yes John,” he answers, his voice low.

“Good, now let’s go have breakfast cause I am betting that you have not eaten properly in the last twenty-four hours.” The doctor suggests his tone a lot lighter.

They sit still for a bit longer before he nods once, straightening up and blinking once. He really hates when those panic attacks strike.

Standing the smaller man offers him a hand before leading him downstairs and to the sofa.

Settling onto the sofa next to John, he slowly nibbles at the bites of food the doctor offers him, watching his brother with nervous eyes. He had not been sure how to tell his brother and now that his brother knew he was not sure how things were going to be handled. John seems convinced that his brother’s return is not going to end their relationship but he is not so sure. After all, every time in the past that the doctor had been in a relationship his brother did not like, his brother made it a point to end it.

Still he is surprised over the fact breakfast seems to go rather smoothly, there are no accusations, no random cruel comments, no glaring. Maybe something will work out.

“Alright boys, we need to have a discussion about this, because there is not going to be any of this snapping and snarling.” The doctor clearly states, looking between him and his brother, his tone very serious.


	6. Adjusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall

_John’s POV_

Breakfast goes quietly, both brothers acting far too subdued for his tastes but he is not going to complain too much. Instead he will make tea and begin this chat, the one that is way over do and he had a crazy idea that he plans to suggest. With that in mind he sets to making tea, digging out the box of both brothers’ favorites before making fresh cups for each. When he enters the living room they are staring at each other in that way that says they are having a private conversation.

“So,” he begins as he gives each brother their tea, “You to have a lot of frustration built up towards each other, at the same time you are loyal to each other but that frustration keep getting in the way, this needs to be dealt with.” He settles on the sofa beside the auburn-haired genius, tugging on his stiff arm to pull him close. With his back leaning against the back of the sofa, he wraps a loose arm around his waist and holds him.

Slowly, the older man relaxes into his grasp his head resting against his shoulder.

“Now the both of you know how to fight, so I am not going to suggest you beat the hell out of each other like I would with most blokes who bicker the way you two do. Instead I am going to suggest the next time you decide to pick a fight with each other you have sex.” He tells them bluntly.

Mycroft jerks upright spinning around to stare at him with nearly the exact same expression as his brother. Both of them are staring at him like he has lost his mind. Still he just sits there and sips his tea calmly. Once his tea is gone he sets the cup aside before beginning to speak again.

“You are both male, so it’s not like you have to worry about pregnancy,” he remarks, “You are both gay, so that is not an issue.” He shrugs, “There is a fine line between lust and anger, and lets face it, at least with lust you can work it out of your systems and possibly get along better afterwards.”

Both continue to stare at him, shock and horror on their face. Yet at the same time he can see the calculations spinning through both of their minds. They are honestly considering it and giving his words actual consideration.

“We’re brothers,” his auburn-haired genius mutters.

He nods once, “You are, you are also both males.”

“I never would have guessed you approved of incest John,” the dark-haired genius remarks.

“Between a male and a female, no, there are too many risks. Between two males or two females, that’s a different story. It has to be equally consented to and both have to understand the exact uses and reasons for having sex. Thus parents should never sleep with their children, nor aunts and uncles with nieces and nephews.” He shrugs once more, “Also they should be legally of age.”

He pauses for a few moments eyes flickering between the still thoughtful expressions.

“Just think about it yeah?” he remarks before he stands and grabs the dishes from their breakfasts, leaving their mugs where they are. When he returns to the living room a few minutes later both have taken up their thinking poses. The dark-haired genius stretched out on the sofa, the auburn-haired genius sitting in his chair.

Feeling a bit over-full, he heads into the bathroom to take out the anal plug he has been wearing for nearly twenty hours with only a few breaks from it. His hole is a bit sore, but he thinks that’s from the lube having dried up. After using the bathroom and applying a little more lube to the plug he works it back into his ass. This has not changed his plan too much.

Once he has it readjusted he heads into the kitchen, cleaning up the small mess left from breakfast. He expects that Sherlock is going to wish to discuss this. The younger man is even going to try and split them up if he read the expression in his eyes earlier. Well that’s not happening, he happens to love his politician. Even if his politician is not always the most intelligent when it comes to emotions, he is still his politician.

Sure enough, he is starting the prep work for the bread to go with dinner when Sherlock comes flouncing in.

“How’s your wrist?” he inquires not stopping to think of how to explain that one.

“How do you know about my wrist?” the younger man demands staring hard at him for a minute before his eyes widen, “You’re the one who treated me!”

He shrugs, “How’s the wrist?” he repeats himself.

“Sore, but I have left the brace alone, I’m not happy you saw me like that, but I am happy you’re the one who took care of me.” the dark-haired genius answers after staring at him for a bit. “Where’s my equipment?”

“Put in the cupboard, along with all chemicals that would not go bad.” He responds as he starts to mix the ingredients for the dough.

For a little bit the two of them are silent, the tall boffin is sitting at the table watching as he works, eyes speculative. “Why did you have to discover you’re bi with Mycroft? He must have tricked you into it!” the younger man finally beseeches.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead taking the time to finish preparing his bread and setting it aside to rise. When that is done he makes tea, fetching Mycroft’s cup and kissing the politician gently on the forehead reassuringly before returning to the kitchen. Once the tea is done, he gives one to his politician. Kissing him gently once more before murmuring, “I am going to have a chat with Sherlock, no matter how it goes, don’t worry about our relationship Myt, it’s not changing unless you actually want it to.” His hand rests just below the tie knot where he knows the tags rest against his skin below the clothing.

Blinking, a small, slow smile curves his politician’s lips.

Kissing his forehead one more time he heads back to the kitchen before making a cup for Sherlock and himself.

“Here you go Sherlock, now let’s talk,” he states softly. “I am not bi, I still heterosexual primary, however I am also sapiosexual secondary.” He falls silent for a minute to see if the younger man comments. When he does not he questions in the same soft tone, “Do you know what sapiosexual is?”

The dark-haired genius gives a slight shake of his head, instead of answering aloud.

“Sapiosexual means attracted to intelligence, regardless of gender.” He explains, continuing to stay softly spoken.

“Why him? Why not me?” the boffin demands pleadingly.

He smiles sadly, “Because it worked that way, it was just developing before you left. Then I spent six months thinking about it. One day I had an epiphany, pinned your brother to the wall, and that was the beginning of that.” He shrugs, stating, “As far as I knew you were dead.”

“Now? Are you going to get rid of him?” there is a hopeful note in the younger man’s voice.

“No Sherlock. Listen I love you, I probably always have, but I love him too. They’re different types of love. I refuse to choose between the two of you.” he takes a deep breath, “So I hope you work things out, because it would hurt to lose you again, but I am not giving him up.”

“Why?” the younger man demands, emotion spiking his voice.

Smiling he simply states, “Because that’s what a person does when they love. They fight for it tooth and nail, they make sure the person they love is happy, and sometimes that means giving them up. But not this time.” Reaching a hand out he gently lays it against his flatmates sharp cheekbone, “Please understand that Sherlock.”

Withdrawing his hand, he gets up and sets to making more tea. He expects that there is going to be an explosion. That his friend and flatmate is going to be hurt by this. His hope is the younger man takes his anger out on him, not on his brother. Myt’s had enough to deal with without adding fury to the mix. The tea is just about done when the explosion he was expecting happens, its actually a bit earlier than he thought it would be.

One moment he is standing by the stove, the next there is a pair of long fingered hands gripping him and spinning him towards the fridge. Before he can stop himself his instincts kick in and he has Sherlock’s bad wrist in his grip, squeezing once, while his foot is striking out and taking him to the ground.

The barely contained scream turned gasp escapes his flatmates tight lips as his knees hit the floor.

His fingers already releasing the taller man as he regains control, “Damn it Sherlock, you know better than to surprise me like that,” he just about snarls, “Mycroft, go grab my bag please.” He directs the politician standing that the door, eyes wide as he takes in the scene.

“Of course,” the politician agrees, turning on his heel and heading upstairs without further questioning it.

Dropping to his knees in front of the younger man, he carefully pulls the arm he is now cradling away in order to unfasten the sleeve, push it out of the way and remove the brace. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “this is going to hurt and for that I am sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” the younger man mutters as he watches him, “I do know better. I must have,” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “forgot.”

A moment later his lover is back with his medical bag, setting it next to him on the floor and looking between the two of them worriedly. “Is there anything else I can do to assist?”

“Have Anthea drop off a long, wide palm, triple plate leather and steel wrist splint,” he requests as he carefully checks the bones to make sure he has not done further damage, before absently continuing, “And finish the tea please.”

He is startled when Sherlock starts chuckling, jerking his head up to stare at him.

“Only you would request a medical splint and then tell the British Government to make tea.” The younger man gasps out between chuckles.

Blinking he replays it in his head before glancing over at his lover who is smiling at him with dark amusement in his eyes.

Digging through his bag, he finds the antiseptic and carefully cleans the area around his wrist before lightly wrapping it in gauze. “I’d put it in a plaster cast if I thought you’d let me, since I doubt you will, will do this instead. However you have to leave the splint on, alright?”

“Yes John,” the younger man answers a bit subdued, “I’m sorry,” he then whisper.

Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around the taller man murmuring, “Apologize later for whatever you feel you must, but don’t apologize about this. It will take some adjusting I think, being home.”

Awkwardly the younger man wraps his good arm around him, nose getting buried in his hair.

A few minutes later he hears his politician clearing his throat. “She has delivered the brace. Actually there are four different ones in the box,”

Letting go of the taller man, he untangles himself and stands up, checking the box and grinning at the variety she got him, happy to see that she got all good ones, including the emergency casting style which will work perfectly for what he wants.

“Up in the chair, arm on the table please,” he directs the younger man before he sets up his stuff on the table.

Behind him he can hear the older brother doing as asked and making the tea.

Groaning softly, the younger brother does as told, tilting his head back and exposing the long column of his throat

Carefully he finishes cleaning the arm before situating the splint and strapping it in place.

“Tea,” the politician announces with a slightly frustrated tone, “you do not have a proper tea set?”

It’s his turn to chuckle, leaning up to kiss Mycroft on the cheek as he accepts his cup, “I am sure there is a set around here somewhere beside Mrs. Hudson’s I just never bothered looking for it.”

“Top shelf beside the fridge towards the back,” the younger brother answers tiredly.

“Next time maybe,” the elder response.

“So, the both of you are too skinny, any preferences on dinner or should I just cook?” he queries as he glances between the brothers. Stuck by how similar and different they are. Physically there is very little alike about them except for the sharp eyes and the fact both are tall, otherwise its like day and night. Sherlock has dark, curly locks, sharp cheek bones, light tan skin, and slender body. Mycroft has straight auburn hair, pale, freckled covered skin, and built to be solid instead of slender.

“If you insist John, though why I would need another meal when I ate breakfast I do not know,” the younger replies, “I think I am going to lay down for a bit.” He mutters before getting to his feet and heading into his room.

Tilting his head, he watches him go, sighing softly when he spots that the young man has not drank his tea. Turning his head to look at his politician he suggests, “Shall we finish our tea, use the bathroom, and go lay down for a bit?”

A small smile plays at his lover’s lips as he nods, getting up to do just. They each take a turn in the bathroom before heading upstairs. Once in their bedroom he steps close to the taller man, tilting his head back a bit and kissing him softly. Slowly he begins to untie his lovers tie before pulling it off and dropping it on the dresser nearby.

“You really are a beautiful man Mycroft,” he tenderly states as he begins unbuttoning the taller man’s shirt.

He feels the slight tremor that goes through the taller man as he continues. Every inch he exposes he softly kisses, lips pressing lightly to his lovers skin. When both the shirts are fully unbuttoned his fingers skim sideways and up, gently pushing the shirt and waistcoat off, allowing them to drop to the floor. With careful fingers he strokes up and down the older man’s chest, sides and back. Eventually he gets to the top of his fitted trousers, unfastening them and pushing them down with the pants below. Dropping to his knees, he carefully lifts first one foot than the other, removing his shoes and socks, before pulling the trousers and pants the rest of the way off. Once the auburn-haired man is completely bare except for the fine silver chain with their combined dog tags, he stands back up carefully hugging his lover before guiding him to the bed and pushing him on his back.

“Just relax,” he murmurs before taking off everything but his pants and joining the taller man on the bed.

There is tension in the older man’s body that reminds him of when they first got together and Mycroft was always worried he would not be enough or that he was too fat. Smiling, he straddles his lover’s hips, grabbing a bottle of scentless massage oil and slowly drizzling it on his hand to warm it before beginning to slowly massaging his torso and arms. His short fingers working every kink and tense spot he can find in the auburn-haired man until his upper body is completely relaxed before he scoots down and repeats the process with first the left leg and foot before doing the same with the right. When he is certain that his front half is done, he carefully rolls the drowsing politician over on his stomach before repeating the entire process with his backside, only in reverse, starting at his feet.

“That feels good,” the politician murmurs sleepily, a small smile on his lips.

“Would you like to sleep or are you interested in continuing this?” he queries lightly, kissing his lovers shoulder.

Nearly closed eyes focus on him thoughtfully, “Sleep please,” he eventually answers, “Cuddle with me?”

He nods, getting up to turn of the light and take off his pants before he climbs into bed next to him, pulling the politician close and covering them up with his comforter.

“Sleep well love, I have an alarm set for an hour and a half.” He murmurs against the older man’s temple before kissing it again.

Slowly the two of them drift off to sleep, enjoying the feeling of his lover wrapped in his arms.

*o-O-o*

_Sherlock’s POV_

Despite the fact he feels exhausted he cannot sleep even though he really wants to. Instead he is stretched out on his bed, staring at his ceiling thinking about everything that has happened in the last two years. He had faked his suicide in order to protect John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. Mostly to protect John however. He remembers everything he did right and everything he did wrong, the exact moment that he realized he wanted more than just friendship with the doctor and all of the planning that he started when he finally accepted that realization.

Closing his eyes he tries to focus on his mind palace only to the pain in his arm keeps breaking his concentration. He could have John give him pain killers but he doesn’t want the pain killers. Biting his lip, he considers going to see if they would mind him joining but at the same time he does not want to interrupt if they are in the middle of sex.

Except… except if he does see it, maybe he could see what makes John suggest that he sleep with his brother.

Quietly, he gets up and sneaks through the window, up the fire escape to perch in front of John’s window and carefully peer in. There is a very small crack in the curtain that he can see through and he watches in fascination. It appears that that they are resting, not quite asleep but not awake. Despite the fact that his brother is the taller of the two of them, he is tucked up against the doctor’s chest, his head in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped loosely around him below the doctor’s arms around him. The difference in skin tone is shocking. He had realized that his brother was light but not that his flatmate was naturally tanned to the point he is. How had he missed that?

Giving a small shake of his head, he returns to watching the pair as they finish waking up. John is gently kissing his brother, little smatterings of kisses across his freckled face before pushing him backwards onto his back while scooting down the taller man’s body to continue his soft little kisses, occasionally pausing to gently nibble or suck at an area before continuing downward. He was acutely aware of every movement from both and the fact that it was beginning to turn him on.

Biting his bottom lip he thinks about the fact this is not actually the first time he has been turned on by the sight of his brother. Before now he had never considered approaching him about it, it was one of the few social taboos he had respected, mostly because he worried what would happen to his brother if someone ever found out. As much as they may bicker, he never wanted his brother to go through what he had been through in the last two years.

With another small shake of his head, he focuses back in on the pair. A jolt of lust shooting through him at the sight of his brother spread out before John like a pale offering while the doctor sucks on his cock. Even more startling is he notices the cock ring that was not there a few minutes ago tight around the top of the doctor’s cock. That sends another jolt through him, wondering how long it would work and why he would need it. He knows that with women his flatmate had remarkable control, could last for hours without any issue so why would he need it for with Mycroft?

When his brother’s hands come up to toy with the doctor’s ass he understands. John does not want to come from the use of his prostate. Oh. _Oh._ Wow, ummm that makes him wonder what it would be like to have either of them in him. Maybe even at the same time. Focusing on each man’s cock he quickly does the math to see if it would be feasible and determines it might not be the best idea unless, of course, he is giving one head while the other fucks his ass. John’s the thicker of the two but Mycroft is longer.

He watches as his brother’s eyes widen and he reads his lips as he states, “When did you get this?”

What’s ‘this’? he wonders as he continues to watch them. A moment later that question is answered as his brother drops a long black thing with a flat top on the floor. It takes him a moment to realize it is an anal plug. How long has John been wearing an anal plug? Why didn’t he notice earlier?

“Got it for you yesterday morning,” the doctor replies as he puts a clear substance on his brother’s cock.

Lube, his mind provides. “You were frustrated and I know how much you enjoy a nice slow time together when you’re like that, but I also know you like both of us topping too but really are not a fan of preparing me cause you get nervous you’ll do something wrong. So I figured I would prepare myself and be ready for you as a surprise. Do you like it?”

He doesn’t get a chance to see his brother’s response because the prat sits up, hugging the doctor close. In response the doctor changes how he is sitting on his brother’s legs, wrapping his legs around his waist and sinking down on his brother’s cock slowly. The sight is enthralling, particularly when John throws his head back and his brother sets to mimicking his actions from earlier, kissing every inch that he can reach.

It actually makes him wish he was in there, that he belonged.

Maybe instead of just having sex with his brother he can talk them into letting him in? He wouldn’t try to separate them, just watch. They’re too beautiful together to try and break apart. He can see that now, it’s not something he would have expected from their normal behavior but from what he had just seen they really did have a good match up.

Despite the looseness of his sleeping pants he finds his clothes feeling a bit too tight. Sighing, he carefully makes his way back to his bedroom in order to take things in hand. It had been years since he had to do that, but tonight well, that was an image that was not escaping him anytime soon.

*o-O-o*

_Mycroft’s POV_

“Why are you smiling like the cat with the cream?” he inquires as he slowly moves within his lover, this is a different angle for them and it is rubbing him in ways he is not quite used to but is enjoying.

“You’re brother was just watching us,” the doctor replies softly, his internal muscles clenching around him and causing him to gasp.

It takes him a moment to understand, for which he feels foolish but blames on how good he’s feeling right now, “What?” his voice is a bit shriller than he appreciates.

Soothingly, his lover kisses on the lips, keeping him from saying more for a bit before responding, “It’s a good thing Myt.”

Confused he asks softer this time, “How is it a good thing?”

“’Cause I suggested he do exactly what we are doing with you, remember? Only, it is one thing I am certain neither of you entertained according to your expressions earlier, so he wanted to see why. Now he has and he’ll be thinking about it.” the younger man answers him with a gentle smile.

“I still do not understand why you would suggest it,” he murmurs as he leans back, bracing himself on his hands and just allowing his younger lover to do all the work for a few minutes, it does feel good, though he does not want to come until John’s inside him.

Grinning mischievously, “I thought about all the tension between us and the fact that it just about vanished after our first night together. So maybe it would do the same for you two,” the blonde answers.

“John,” he groans, “I want you in me.”

After tightening his muscles around him once more, the doctor lifts himself off his cock, shifting positioning so he is on his knees while his hands grip his hips and lifts. Wrapping in his legs around his lovers hips, he stays still as the doctor uses his fingers to prepare him before guiding his thick cock into him.

Groaning he lays back on the bed and simply enjoys the feeling of having John within him, the fact that he had not lost the younger man like he expected. That maybe he would get to keep him. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the sensations and allows himself to get lost in them.

Later he will think about what John suggested about having sex with his brother, but not right now.

*o-O-o*

_John’s POV_

Just before he slips inside the politician he takes his cock ring off, “Soft and sensual or hard and fast?” he asks as he slides in.

Instead of answering the tall man lays back and spreads his legs just a bit more in invitation, a passionate, hooded expression on his face. Well then, a combination of the two. Shifting on his knees so he can put a bit more umph into his thrusts he sets a pattern of one shallow thrust that just grazes his lovers prostate before doing one heavy thrust that pounds it, followed by two shallow, two heavy, then three, then four, all the way up to ten before he changes and starts doing it in reverse. Below him Mycroft is grasping at his hips, moaning and whimpering.

“Ja-ohn,” the auburn-haired moans, “more, please, please!” his voice takes on a keening edge, his hips trying to get more friction but he is holding his lover still.

Delighting in every single noise that escapes the older man, he continues his rhythm, making sure to maintain the same speed even as he changes the thrusts strength. Grinning slightly, he scoops up Mycroft’s legs, carefully placing his legs on his shoulders and changing their angle a bit.

“Pla-ease!” begs the older man, “John, John, John,” he sets to chanting making all sorts of noises of need and want.

“Alright love,” he murmurs, continuing the last of his ten light thrusts before changing it to ten heavy thrusts, only he does more than just pound the politician prostate, he tucks his head against his chest and folds himself slightly in order to take the tip of Mycroft’s cock in his mouth and begin sucking hard on it.

Soon the older man is moaning nearly non-stop as his release hits him, exploding through his body. The clinching of the older man’s muscles and hole around his cock causing him to come as well and he thrusts one more time, holding himself all the way inside his lover's body even as he swallows the semen spurting out of his love.

Slowly he releases the taller man’s cock and lowers his legs before withdrawing from his ass. He smiles at the completely blissful expression on his lover's face, and the fact he is almost unconscious. Carefully standing on wobbling legs he fetches a flannel and a two bottles of water from the top drawer of the dresser. The first bottle of water he uses wet the flannel and carefully clean his lover and himself. The second is used to drink, taking a deep drink for himself before helping his sleepy lover sit up a bit to get a drink himself before allowing him to lay back down.

“Rest love,” he tells the politician, kissing him on his forehead and covering him up with the comforter.

Grabbing a change of clothing, he heads downstairs to the bathroom and is relieved when he discovers that it is open. Slipping in he takes a hot shower, allowing the water to loosen all of the muscles that tensed up while he was pounding his lover. Once his muscles are relaxed enough for him to move without pain he gets out of the shower, drying off and dressing.

Out in the living room he checks the time, noticing that it is two hours before when he likes to have dinner. Humming he sets to work on preparing dinner but is not surprised when he hears the slight squeak of Sherlock’s window opening, or the groan of metal as he steps onto the fire escape. Ah, he is going to talk with his brother. Good. Well maybe, his auburn-haired lover needs rest. Hopefully the conversation does not take too long.

*o-O-o*

_Mycroft’s POV_

He is drowsing, not quite asleep but not awake, enjoying the scent of the warm blankets surrounding him, the fact that it smells like himself and his love. He’s never actually told the doctor he loves him but he is sure he knows. Maybe he should tell him, just to be safe.

When there is a tap at the window, his eyes crack open and he tilts his head to look up at the window. Through a thin crack he can see is brother sitting on the fire escape. For a minute he considers ignoring him but decides he might as well just get this over with. Holding the comforter around himself he gets up and heads over to the window, thankful that his doctor had cleaned him up so he was not a sticky mess.

“Come in brother mine,” he tiredly remarks as he opens it up, “And close the window behind you, I am sure John is aware you are up here already.”

Turning, he returns to the bed, settling on it and reaching for the bottle of water that his lover had left him.

Closing the window, his brother looks around the room before coming over to the bed and frowning at it, “That’s not John’s bed.”

“Actually it is, I bought it as a gift for him when one of the springs caused his shoulder to have issues, and since I knew he would complain if I just trashed it I had it given to the homeless people under the Arches.” He answers, feeling more awake now that he has had something to drink. He should get dressed in some of his night clothes but cannot bring himself to take the blanket off around his brother yet. It’s too awkward.

“I had not realized how pale you are or that you have freckles all over,” his brother offers after the two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, “You two look right together, I will not try to get him to leave you.”

He stares at his brother not sure what to make of that. Of ever possible scenario he briefly considered that was definitely not one of them. Perhaps if he remains silent the chattery drama king that is his brother would explain himself.

Sighing, his brother scoots closer to him on the bed, “Just don’t take him from me please,” his brother eventually whispers.

Letting the blanket drop slightly, he wraps the arm closer to his brother around him, tugging him closer so that they are side to side, his brother’s head resting against his shoulder. “We always stay here, he dislikes my flat.”

“Then why haven’t you moved in?” his brother asks, long arm encircling his waist.

He shrugs, “I did not expect you to allow this to last when you got home.” He knows there is a wealth of emotion in his voice but he does not stop it. Here and now, within the safety of John’s room he feels secure enough to be honest about what he wants and thinks.

“I….” the younger man starts but stops himself, “I probably wouldn’t have, except John seems to really love you, and even more important you seem to care about him, you do not care about anyone, I am not getting in the middle of that. You should move in officially.” His brother pauses, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. “You two work well together.”

“Are you sure? You would have to not stink up the flat if I did that.” He questions, surprised by the suggestion

“Yes Mycroft, I am sure, it would make both of you happy,” there is a note that takes him a few minutes to understand before it clicks, his brother’s heart is breaking.

For a long time the two of them are silent as they sit there lost in thought. It is unusual for him to be this close to his brother without his brother being dying. In the years since he left for the university they had not gotten along. Before that they had barely gotten along, he had always resented having a younger brother who was seven years younger. He wanted one closer to his age, one that liked many of the same things as him, instead he got Sherlock who he seemed to always be competing against whether he wanted to or not. Eventually he had given up trying to not compete and had started playing along. He had been the one to teach his brother how to control the overflow of information that their mind processed. The one to first teach him to read and enjoy science, though they took it in different directions since he ended up studying the social sciences getting a Masters Degree in Political Science, and two different Bachelor’s degrees, one in Linguistics and the other in Anthropology.

“Mycroft?” his brother eventually questions, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Yes Sherlock?” he replies, considering scooting back against the wall but not wanting to break the peace between them.

“Do you think John’s right?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, still working on processing the idea of sex with his brother.

“Mycroft?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you to see what he tastes?”

Sighing in exasperation he takes a moment to answer, “I suppose.”

Sitting up, his brother turns towards him, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips as he unconsciously runs his tongue over his lips. Tilting his head to the side, he watches the dark-haired man closely as he leans forward to hesitantly press their lips together. Sighing, he parts his lips slightly and kisses his brother back, thinking of how John kisses him and mimicking the motion.

The kiss only lasts for seconds before the two of them break apart to stare at each other. It was odd and awkward and if he was being honest with himself felt a bit right. At the same time he felt wrong because he is supposed to be kissing his doctor, not his brother. Bugger, maybe they should try this with John in the room?

A shared look with his sibling tells him the younger man is thinking the same thing.

“Please leave the room, I will meet you in the living room,” he requests politely, a blush covering all of his exposed skin.

For a long minute the younger man stares at him before nodding. Flouncing off, Sherlock goes through the door, leaving him in the room alone with the door wide open. Sighing, he considers going to shut it but figures he better not waste time or he does not know what his brother will do. Standing, he carefully folds the blanket onto the foot of the bed before going to the dresser to grab one of the few outfits he keeps here, a sleeping outfit from his early university years when his brother still gave him presents.

*o-O-o*

_Sherlock’s POV_

When he heads out of the room he does not close the door all the way, but he does close it for the most part. He actually goes all the way down stairs, making sure to make noise before silently going back up the stairs to peer at his brother while he dresses. At first he is curious why his brother has sent him away. They are both men, they are built pretty much the same so what is the problem? It is when his brother steps in front of John’s closet mirror that he understands the issue, he can hear his brother muttering softly and strains to make out the words.

“I’m not fat, John will not lie to me and he says I am not fat. I might not be beautiful like Sherlock but I am not fat and ugly.” His brother sighs as he turns away going to sit on the bed as he pulls the clothes on, “If only. I think John’s vision is impaired.”

Retreating back down stairs he heads directly to his chair in the living room in order to think about it. He can recall every comment and remark he ever made about his brother and his weight. Most of it was designed just to nettle him but apparently he had done more than nettle, it had gotten under his skin the same way the word freak had gotten to him. How were they going to ever possibly have sex together if his brother was embarrassed to be in front of him naked? Maybe he should talk to John about this. It was his flatmates idea after all. No, he did the damage, he needs to figure out how to fix it.

Frowning, he recalls every pale inch of his brother. He is not muscular or reed thin, but he looks too slender for his frame, almost gaunt. How had he missed that before? The suits, they’re layered and that probably keeps him from looking fat or skinny, just straight. Suits can be ever so handy like that. Maybe if they do end up having sex he can worship him the way he knows John does? Or would his brother see that as false? Hmmm, he really would have to think about this. Not really enough time between now and tonight to come up with a good plan, maybe he could use John’s laptop and do some research on how to build self-esteem?

He is still thinking about it when his brother enters the room wearing the last pair of night clothes he had given him years before, slippers, and a robe that is tied shut around him. Silently the older man settles onto the sofa, long limbs folding close as he pulls his legs up under him.

“All of your things are still here, brother mine, between John and myself they have all been maintained and cleaned. However I believe that John did get rid of the human remains within the flat.” his brother remarks, voice soft.

“Thank you,” he replies distractedly.

“Dinner will be done in ten minutes,” he hears his flatmate call out.

Neither answers aloud.

“Mycroft?” he states softly, keeping his voice low so not to be heard by their mutual love.

“Yes Sherlock?” his brother tiredly replies.

“I’m sorry,” he doesn’t apologize often but when he does he means it.

Confusion wrinkles his brother’s brow as his eyes narrow. He can tell that he is trying to determine what he is apologizing for. “You know I always forgive you,” the older man eventually states equally soft.

He nods, knowing he will still have to actually explain himself at some point, however not tonight. Tonight is going to be discussing things with John about their physical relationship. However he will make it a point to acquire new sleeping outfits for his brother, ones designed to comfort, soft and comfortable.

Both are silent as their flatmate enters the room carrying a tray with three plates and three mugs on it. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, the small man starts passing out the plates, giving his brother his first, along with a tea mug before lifting one of the other plates and cups to hand to him. Once all three of us have our respective meals and drinks, the blonde settles on the sofa next to his brother smiling up at the taller man.

When his brother moves he catches a flash of silver at his throat, his eyes locking in on it. It only takes him a moment to realize it is a fine silver chain and his mind is replaying seeing his brother in front of the mirror once more. Its dog tags. His brother is wearing John’s dog tags? Not fair, he wants John’s tags. However he is not going to flinch them from his brother, if he can he wants to try and repair his relationship with his brother not make it worse.

“So did the two of you have a good conversation?” the blonde questions, glancing between the two of them.

“It was enlightening,” his brother responds after a few moments of thought.

“That’s good I hope,” the doctor remarks.

“Indeed, however we are in a bit of a situation, it was far too awkward to kiss each other,” he answers before his brother has a chance.

Tilting his head the smaller man states, “Alright and…?”

“We desire your presence for any future attempts.” He states blushing, embarrassed to ask, particularly since he knows he will probably never have a chance with the doctor since he belongs to his brother.

“Okay,” the doctor answers once more.

The rest of dinner goes quietly with only a little bit of talking between the three of them. Despite that it is not an awkward silence. Instead it is comfortable, reminding him of all the times that John and he did this exact thing before left.

*o-O-o*

_John’s POV_

After dinner he collects up all of the dishes, taking them into the kitchen in order to clean them. While he is in the kitchen, his auburn-haired love comes up behind him, moving just loud enough to be heard. A moment later the tall man wraps his arms around him, chin resting on his good shoulder.

“Yes Myt?”he queries, tilting his head to the side in order to gently press their foreheads together.

“It felt wrong,” his lover murmurs, “at the same time kissing him felt right. You are more experienced, please explain.”  


Smiling lightly he answers, “It means my guess was correct, however the both of you have avoid thinking about it for so long that your minds are against it, also our society teaches that it is wrong. While the two of you might not always live within societies rules, there are some you do not question.”

He can feel the taller man considering his words. Eventually the older man states, “I would be alright with you wanting him.”

“Mycroft, I thought I…” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence however his genius kisses the side of his neck and puts a finger over his lips.

“I know you are not planning on leaving me, but maybe, perhaps it would be easier for us if you were part of it.” The auburn-haired genius whispers in his ear, his breath sending a spike of lust through him.

He slowly nods once, his mind carefully working through the train of thought that it causes. He had not planned on sleeping with Sherlock. After all, he is content with Mycroft. He feels no need to seek out other partners and has not felt the need to sleep with any new women since he had begun his relationship with his politician.

“When would you like to try?” he inquires softly.

He can feel he politicians blush in the skin pressed against his, “I thought maybe the three of us could cuddle tonight and see where things go from there?” he answers questioningly.

He nods, “Alright, let me finish cleaning up first.”

“I’ll help,” the taller man offers kissing the side of his throat one more time before releasing him.

The two of them set to finishing cleaning up the kitchen, putting away the leftover food, wiping down the stove and counter, and washing the dishes. Once that is done, the two of them return to the living room, his auburn-haired lover shifting from foot to foot but not saying anything. Instead the brothers share a speaking glance. Moments later the dark-haired brother stands, moving with grace though not as much grace as he had before he left.

“My room has a bigger bed. I suggest that is where we lay down for this experiment.” The dark-haired genius suggests lightly, standing fluidly while a blush colors his skin.

He tilts his head, looking up at is lover questioningly.

The oldest in the room nods once, turning his hand slightly and opening his fingers in invitation.

Smiling, he takes hold, squeezing his lovers hand before the three of them turn, allowing Sherlock to head into the bedroom first before following. When all three are in the slightly cooler room, there is a bit of a standoff for a few minutes. The two brothers are staring hard at each other while he is merely watching them.

Eventually he decides to break the stalemate by taking off his over shirt and folding it up before setting it on the dresser. He then kicks off his shoes and looks between the pair, “I am not getting by the wall,” he remarks seriously.

The dark-haired brother nods first, carefully taking off his own over shirt and shoes before clamoring on the bed, “Come on Mycroft. Take the robe and slippers off.”

He smiles at that, getting up on the bed, he’ll try the middle, probably won’t stay there but it does not hurt to try it. It will give each brother a chance to adjust to being physically close when he is aware they rarely are.

Slowly the auburn-haired brother takes off his robe and slippers, quickly climbing up and under the blanket though he presses close.

Settling back on the blanket, he wraps an arm around Mycroft’s shoulders, kissing his forehead. Glancing over at the younger brother, he gives him a questioning glance as well.

Nervously according to the expression in his eyes, the younger man slides slowly down the bed until he is just a little lower than him. Carefully he inches closer and curls him almost a mirror of his brother with his hand in a cast resting on his chest.

He wraps his other arm around him, kissing the younger an on the forehead as well.

For a long while the three of them merely lay there in quiet. Eventually he feels his lover drift off to sleep, body pressed close to his, nose buried against his throat. It is almost the exact way that they normally sleep except for the extra person. His flatmate meanwhile takes longer to drift off but eventually does, his breathing shallow and his body slightly tense. He can understand that.

Since he was the one to care for the younger brother’s injuries and he had been in plenty of war zones to recognize torture, he knows exactly what happened to his friend. According to the scar tissue he can give an approximate date for how long ago the damage was done and what was used to do the damage. He also knows that his friend is going to need help adjusting to being home again.

Eventually he drifts off to sleep as well, though he is hyperaware of both men, particularly the younger who he is not adjusted to at this point.


	7. Intertwined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall

_John’s POV_

There is sunlight flickering through the window, early dawn according to the weak light. Beside him he can feel the younger brother body’s lightly twitching, tense, and just about pouring sweat. There are small whimpering noises, almost un-hearable escaping his tightly clenched lips.

Kissing the older brothers forehead one more time, he carefully unwraps his arm from around him, turning slightly so he can shift his hold on the younger man and start murmuring comfortingly in his hair until he feels him slowly coming aware. He can also feel the blush on the younger man’s skin.

“John?” he sleepily mumbles, eyes slowly opening.

“Shhhh, it’s alright, relax Sherlock, you’re home,” he answers the dark-haired genius, running a careful hand down his back in slow soothing strokes.

“I hated being gone. I wanted you there always and you never were. It hurt John,” the boffin mutters, his voice just about cracking as he burrows closer. “Then I got home. I was going to scare off anyone with you but it’s him and you two work well together so I can’t.” he takes a shuddery breath against his neck, “I wanted you for me. But you’re not mine.”

“Shhhhhh, take a steady breath, I’m not going anywhere,” he replies, still stroking the younger man’s back.

He feels the instance the older brother awakes by the change of breath against his neck and the fact he scoots back a hair. It is the same thing he does every morning as a way not to disturb him. A moment later he scoots back closer to him, only he is not just touching him along the length of their bodies, one long arm drapes over him, as his long fingered hand gently rubs his brother’s jaw.

“We can share,” the politician suggests sleepily. He really is not a morning person and it will take him a little bit before he is fully awake with his normal smooth voice rather than a sleep roughened one. “I’m certain he can keep us from arguing too much,” the older man continues softly.

“But he’s yours, you even got his dog tags,” the younger one keens, voice nearly breaking.

“Actually one is his and the other was a gift made for me that he ordered.” His lover responds as he nuzzles his neck. “Did you know that if you softly blow on the spot just below his ear he gets all tingly and everything else seems to get sensitive?”

Perking up, the younger responds, “No, I didn’t, does it happen every time?”

“Yes.”

“Uggggh, why do I feel like I am the only sane one in this trio?” he groans playfully, knowing that his politician and boffin will get it.

“You’re not sane, that was determined a long time ago when you killed the cabbie to protect me,” Sherlock points out as he looks at his brother over his shoulder.

“Or when you stood with semtex strapped to you and sassed off anyways,” Mycroft points out with a mischievous smile against the back of his neck.

Chuckling, he lets go of the dark-haired genius, trying to move and finds he is pretty much sandwiched, “Alright boys, let me up, I need the bathroom,” he directs them after a minute, waiting for them to move.

“If you insist,” the dark-haired genius mutters as he edges back.

His auburn-haired genius does so without speaking, sitting up and moving so that he can easily slide past him.

Getting off the bed, he glances back at the two brothers, taking in the beauty and contrast between them. Despite the fact that they had just woke up, both look far more put together in their sleeping clothes than he does. Mycroft is sitting there properly, no longer under the blanket but still covered except his hands and head, his normally neat hair sleep messy. Sherlock on the other hand is stretched out on his side, lounging there at ease, a pillow resting between his knees, his weight supported by the elbow of his uninjured arm, hair wild curls going everywhere.

“Just relax would you, I’ll bring tea on my way back,” he informs them with a small smile. Turning, he leaves the room in his stocking feet, padding quietly to the kitchen where he puts the water on to boil while he goes to the bathroom.

*o-O-o*

_Mycroft’s POV_

He awakes to the sound of his brother just about in tears. Despite everything, that is one thing he has never been good at handling, particularly when they are sincere like they are right now. He’s not home all the time, truthfully he is gone several days at a time at least once a month, perhaps it would not hurt to share John, just as long as his brother understands that they both get private time with the doctor, it should be doable. It’s not like his brother plans far out anyways so they should be able to wok it. Of course, he has to make sure that the doctor does not mind, but that is not a big deal, he is ninety-six percent certain the doctor will agree.

So he suggests it and it is accepted with ease though not so many words. He hears it in his brother’s question and the doctor’s sarcastic response.

Knowing that the blonde will have to use the restroom shortly he is considering moving when he hears the doctor ask them to do just that for just that reason. Moving from under the blankets he sits up, but cannot help the fact that he is stiffly sitting with his back to his brother. As much as he cares for him, there have been too many hurtful comments out of the younger man about his weight and he does not want to see the disgust over the fact he is not skinny like him.

Closing his eyes he reminds himself that John likes him as is. That he is not fat or obese or too big. It’s really not that easy when the one who has told him otherwise the most is lounging on the bed behind him.

He is mildly startled when his brother is suddenly pressed against his back, slender arms wrapping around his waist as the younger man rests his head on his shoulder. “Mycroft,” his brother’s breathe ghosts across the back of his ear, “You’re not fat, John’s right, you could use a little more meat on your bones.”

Tensing up he just about snaps, “Do not lie to me Sherlock, you have made your view clear often enough.”

“I’m not lying,” his brother responds softly, “I was wrong to try nettling you, should have realized it was no different than Donovan calling me freak.”

He flinches, knowing his brother is trying to be honest, trying to reassure him. It’s not working.

Several minutes pass in silence before the doctor returns with three mugs of tea on his tray. A small smile playing at the blondes lips when he sees the way that they are seated.

“Tea boys,” he remarks with ease, setting it on the table beside the bed.

Finally his brother unwraps himself from his back accepting the cup and sighing in contentment as he drinks it. “Nowhere and no one else in the world makes tea the way you do,” his brother remarks as he savors his.

Accepting his tea he murmurs a quiet thank you, and holds still while the doctor settles on the bed next to him.

“So can I ask what the conversation was about?” the shortest of their number asks.

“I was just telling my brother I was mistaken, he’s not fat,” his brother answers before he has a chance to.

Scowling, he glares at his brother for a minute but it is interrupted by the doctor taking his empty cup and cupping his face between his palms before he proceeds to slowly kiss him.

He hears the sharp intake of breath from his brother, but ignores it in favor of latching on to the doctor, his fingers holding his hips as he kisses him back. One of his favorite parts of being in a relationship is the kissing. It is right up there with the cuddling for things that he really wants to do. His eyes flutter shut as he presses against the doctor, enjoying the contact.

A moment later he is startled when he feels his brother’s long body pressing against his back, head perched on his should, eyes completely focused on the kiss they are sharing.

When they finally break part to breathe, he turns his head slightly to raise a questioning eyebrow at the youngest of their number only to be kissed hesitantly. A gentle press of lips against his before his brother withdraws, giving him a curious look while blushing.

Shifting positioning slightly so he is still pressed against him, but able to reach both brothers, the doctor slips a hand to his brother’s jaw, gently rubbing his thumb along those sharp cheek bones before kissing him.

As much as he would prefer not to admit it, it is one of the hottest things he has ever seen the way his brother’s eyes flutter shut, his breathing becomes shallow and stuttered, and his mouth opens up beneath the doctors more knowledgeable one.

While he is aware his brother is not a complete virgin, he disregards most of that experience because he sees it as just a step above rape due to the fact he could not consent or remember it due to being wasted at the time. This though, this is different, the doctor had applied a combination of his knowledge of physical anatomy with his skill due to years of being a ladies’ man meant that his brother was going to learn the same lessons in pleasure that he got to learn. It would be magnificent, he is sure.

Against his back he can feel his brother swelling within his pants, his cock getting hard and his hips rocking lightly in need. The feeling is actually beginning to arouse him as well, particularly as he continues to watch.

When the doctor pulls back a small, playful smirk is curving his lips but he settles back with an encouraging look on his face. It takes him a moment to realize that it his turn to actually kiss his brother and slowly sets to doing so. Instead of hesitant like his brother, his is more geared towards curiosity, gently pressing their lips together, his tongue tracing his brother’s before slowly dipping within to trace his teeth when he gasps.

He remembers from the early days how overwhelming all of this can be and wishes to take his time. Silently he thanks his assistant for making sure he had the day off though he is certain this is not what she was thinking when she made sure of it.

Eventually they stop in order to breath and gain control. His brother’s eyes are glassy, full of need, and a bit shocked.

“This is better than being high,” his brother mutters as he stares at them.

“That’s good,” their doctor murmurs with amusement lacing his tone, “It will only continue to improve too.”

“Really? Well then what are we waiting for?” the youngest of their number exclaims, “What is next?”

Chuckling, the doctor sits back carefully tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor. He is aware of how self conscious the doctor is of his scars and knows that is more for his benefit than it is for his brother’s, it is a reminder that he is not the only one who is self conscious and ashamed of his body.

Time seems to stand still as his brother reaches past him to touch their doctor without actually moving. It is almost as if he is worried that to move will break the spell the three of them are currently woven in. He could reassure him that that spell was all John and hard to break, but decides not to, best to let him learn it on his own, he always did better that way anyways.

“Touch him,” he encourages his brother, moving slightly so he can speak directly into his ear as he watches the expression of nervous pleasure on the younger man’s face, “feel the steel beneath the surface, the control, and it’s ours.” He punctuates the last word with a quick lick of his tongue down the outer rim of his brother’s ear.

A low moan escapes his brother and he inches forward, moving so that his slender body is more beside then behind him, so that he can touch their shared love. Slowly his brother sets to tracing every scar and mark he can see and reach, his eyes wide as he takes in the different textures and it reminds him of himself that first time so long ago.

Did he have that same look of rapture on his face? Like he was being given a special present that was just for him? Like he never would have expected such a wonderful thing to happen? If he looked even a quarter as enthralled as his brother, than maybe he could understand why John thought he was gorgeous, even if he doesn’t agree.

After a while the doctor suggests, “Mind if I sit on the bed?”

Immediately his brother is scampering backwards, dragging him with him, and motioning to the bed while nodding energetically. “Of course, I umm,” he stumbles over the words as he tries to do too much at once.

Clamoring onto the bed, the doctor settles himself comfortably in the middle before reaching for him, not his brother, much to his shock, and pulling him so he is in front of him. “Sit here, Sherlock either here beside us so we’re a triangle, or behind him,” the blonde orders softly.

For a minute his brother considers it before scrambling to sit between them, forming a triangle as he looks between us.

“Next?” the youngest asks excitedly.

Instead of answering, the doctor lifts Sherlock’s hand that is closest to him, laying it back against his chest and just smiling. His brother takes this as the invitation to explore that it is and set to doing so with a very serious expression.

Meanwhile he lifts his own hands to carefully rub the blonde’s leg, which is stretched out beside him, through the soft material of his sleeping pants.

Eventually his brother’s attention turns from the blonde to him, and he bites his lower lip as his gaze flickers between the buttons on his shirt and his face. “Can I?” he inquires softly, hand reaching but stopping just short of them.

He tries to say yes, but finds he cannot, too many years of taunts flash through his mind and he just about bolts from the bed then, his embarrassment over his form coming to the forefront of his mind.

“How about I do that?” the doctor suggests gently, understanding the expression in his eyes he figures.

His brother looks between them for a minute before sitting back and nodding, eyes intent on watching him.

Moving a little closer, the doctor cups his jaw again, bringing his attention back to him, “Look at me Mycroft, keep your focus on me,” he orders softly before kissing him long and slow.

Again he hears his brother’s sharp intake of breath but he ignores it, doing as told and focusing on the doctor. He finds that the overload that had been sneaking up on him was retreating as they continue to kiss until his hands are grasp at the younger man again, holding him still so he can keep kissing him. Slowly, the doctor’s hands go from cupping his jaw, to running down the side of his face to his throat, then further down to the buttons on his shirt. They do not stop kissing until his shirt is completely unfastened and the doctor is pushing it off his shoulders, allowing it to fall on the bed behind him.

Breathing heavy he stares at the doctor as he feels unfamiliar fingers tentatively touching his shoulder first before setting to tracing his muscles.

Still, he is not ready to actually deal with that, so he runs his hands over every inch of the doctor that he can reach, delighting in the low moan that escapes his love’s mouth.

“You two are gorgeous, I really have no idea what you find attractive about me,” the blonde murmurs as he watches them through hooded eyes, leaning back on his palms.

His brother pauses from his explorations, glancing at his face with aggravation in his eyes before looking at the doctor, “Now that’s one of the most idiotic things you have ever said,” the youngest of their number states bluntly.

He nods once, momentarily forgetting how uncomfortable he was with this in order to agree, “He’s right. That is rather idiotic. You are far more attractive than I could ever hope to be. Each scar is a badge showing your loyalty and strength,” he explains, not mentioning the fact he finds his brother attractive, he is still coming to grips with the fact he is thinking of his brother like that.

“Though John is right about one thing,” his brother comments as he returns to exploring his upper body.

“Oh?” he questions afraid to hear what he has to say.

“You are as gorgeous as me, it’s a different type, but not a lesser value,” the younger man continues as he pauses, his finger tips just barely touching the tags.

*o-O-o*

_Sherlock’s POV_

For reasons he does not understand his brother has tensed up and started to feel ever more self-conscious of his hands roaming all over him. Lifting the tags, he looks at them, one is John’s and he recognizes it from the older set of dog tags. The other is a custom tag, with his brother’s blood type, and surname in the regular spots but instead of a social security identification number it says Watson, and instead of his initials it says Myt. Though he chuckles at the TBG remembering he is the one who once told John that his brother was the British Government.

Letting go, he sits back and sets to lifting his tee-shirt that he slept in over his head. It takes a little bit of effort because of the splint but he still does so.

Of course, he is a bit self-conscious as well. Currently his torso is wrapped in one big bandage because of his back and ribs. So removing his shirt is pretty pointless except it shows that he’s not physically perfect either. Biting his lower lip he debates about removing his sleeping pants for a minute before deciding he might as well and get the awkwardness out of the way ahead of time, though how is he going to get them out of theirs if they are being overly self-aware? Getting off the bed, he quickly shimmies them of, allowing his pants to go with, so he is completely bare. It makes him nervous but John’s the one person that he trusts without question, and John trusts his brother.

Returning to his spot, he looks between the two of them again, ignoring the fact his cock is hard and leaking in favor of focusing on touching his brother. He has a feeling he will get to spend more time with their doctor than his brother and makes it a point to mentally note to give the two of them time together.

Slowly he goes back to touching everything, enjoying the fact that his brother is plush and soft, and yet there is something solid beneath the surface that could not be seen, it had to be felt. That discovery amazed him and edging a bit closer, he decides to taste his brother skin, to get a sample of what it is like, compare it to what he imagines it to be like for now. Later he will compare it to how John tastes, and how his brother tastes under other circumstances.

“Did you know your brother is a bottom Sherlock?” the blonde murmurs as he runs careful hands along his bandages.

He shakes his head, pausing just before his brother’s shoulder to respond, “No…”

“What about you? Are you a bottom? A top? A switch? Do you like to be told what to do or do you prefer to just explore? If I was to pin you against the wall and do as I want with you would you rejoice or resent it?” with each word the doctor’s short fingers stroke over his skin and body, touching him everywhere but his aching member.

His brother’s breathing gets labored again, drawing the blonde’s attention for a moment before he nods and returns to what he is doing.

His own breathing is harsh, arousal is pulsing through him, stronger than any he has ever felt before. When he was gone he thought he had discovered the peak of his longing but as the doctor continues to speak and touch him, he discovers that there is an even higher limit, one that he is still working to reach.

“Lay down and relax Myt,” the blonde softly orders and he watches as his brother obeys without question, seeming to find handing the control over and not having to think to be wonderful.

A moment later he feels himself manhandled and lifted, he had forgotten that for such a small person his flatmate could lift rather well. Moments later he is being situated so that he is straddling his brother’s hips while the doctor is pressed against his back.

“Like this,” the older man murmurs in his ear as his hand traces down his arm, gently settling over his hands and guiding them.

It is almost overloading the amount of sensory data he is collecting between his brother beneath him and his best friend behind him.

He has no idea how long the two of them stay like that. Instead he directs all his focus into understanding and mimicking what the blonde is showing him, delighting in the immediate reactions he gets from his brother. He is shown where to barely touch and where to press down, where to knead the muscles and where to stroke. Through it all, the doctor continues to murmur in his ear, explaining how he learned about that particular effect until he feels like he is just about bursting and wants to see more, touch more.

When John leads them downwards, he feels the slight tension in his brother, the need and desire warring with his embarrassment and worry.

Slowly their combined fingers hook his sleeping pants and pants and he finds himself being tugged up and backward a bit as they pull them off.

The moment his brother is completely bare he rests his hands on his legs as he takes him in, the long lines, the hidden strength, the pale perfection of his skin with the scattered freckles that he just aches to connect with his tongue, the russet colored right curls surrounding his rather hard length, everything.

“Amazing,” he breaths out, eyes widening. Suddenly all he wants to do is run his lips, fingers, nose, and tongue over everything to see if there are difference in taste and scent to know him as intimately as possible. Would he allow that? Right now he is, but his focus seems to be more on John than him.

“Go ahead Sherlock, touch him, discover for yourself what makes him moan and arch, what makes him beg.” John orders him, his tongue tracing the shell of his ear very similarly to how his brother had earlier which has him moaning softly.

“What about you?” he manages to ask, though his curiosity is driving him to do as he was told.

He can feel the wicked smile against his ear, “Me? I get to enjoy the show. Besides, I figured this might take a while so I prepared.”

“Prepared?” he repeats, his mind quickly calculating the meaning and realizing he is referring to the cock ring he had seen the night before. Oh, _oh._

Deciding to go with it, he leans forward, bracing himself on his knees that he spreads just a little further in order to balance. First he wants to taste his brother again, see if this passiveness affects his taste any, so that’s what he does. He cups his brothers jaw in his hands and mimics the kiss from earlier, tongue tracing his lips before sinking between them to trace his teeth, noting that he second to back molar heads a new cap because it is sharp, before sucking on his tongue for a minute. He has a unique taste anything like he had tasted before, not even that brief taste earlier when they were both nervous.

He nibbles, kisses and licks his way around his brother’s face, collecting data and ignoring the other man in the room. From there he sets to travelling down his body, tasting the skin of his underside of his jaw, his throat, behind his ears. He particularly enjoys the way his brother gasps when his tongue press against his pulse point at the base of his throat, and the moan that escapes him when he sucks on it.

Still, there is more to taste, to touch, and he continues following his collarbone to the left before working his way down that side of his body. Discovering that his nipple is sensitive to some touch and not others, that if he presses on the area just above his bottom most floating rib he arches and groans. Downwards he keeps going, choosing not to go any lower than his belly button for the moment before he works his way across, swirling his tongue around that belly button, before dipping in to see what he does in response before working his way back up.

When he reaches the hallow once more he determines it is time to work his way down his middle and does just that, though he does not stop at the belly button this time. He stops just before he gets to his brothers tight curls and sits up, giving Mycroft a worried look before turning to ask John, “Why’s he being so still?”

Chuckling softly, the blonde answers, “I told him to relax, after sixteen months of being lovers he knows that means I will make sure he is taken care of.”

“Oh,” he mutters, thinking about it for a bit, he had never seen his brother hand over control to anyone and yet that is exactly what he is doing here, he has handed over control without question, doubt, or worry. A part of him wonders what that is like and hopes that he will get a chance to do the same eventually, though he is not sure he can bring himself to do so. The amount of trust it shows is staggering and leaves him in awe. Giving a small shake of his head, he asks, “Can I?” and he motions to his brother’s cock, enjoying the way it looks and wanting to taste and smell it.

“Of course, just be careful,” it is the doctor who answers, not his brother.

Nodding, he scoots back a bit. Surprised when he does not run into the blonde who he then notices has moved over to the side, his blunt fingers gently stroking his brother’s chest and sides.

Stretching out so he is laying on his stomach he sets to sniffing every inch of his brother’s pubic hair. Learning the differences and rejoicing in them. When he feels he has smelled enough he moves on to gently wrapping his hands around his brother’s hard length. He is getting a feel for its weight and feel, comparing it to his own and noting the differences. After that he runs the tip of his tongue across the top of his cock, tracing the slit and tasting the salty somewhat bitter precome. From there he runs his tongue down the vein on the bottom, pressing it flat and getting a feel for how it reacts before moving on to take most of his brother in his mouth before he hits the back of his throat and accidently chocking himself. Withdrawing a bit, he is ever so happy to lack a gag reflex as he tries again, focusing on allowing his throat to relax.

The results are startling as his brother gasps, the little moans and noises he has been making seeming to be amplified. Apparently this is his brother’s hot spot so why isn’t he moving? He glances up, mildly shocked to see hat John is holding his hips in place, his blunt thumbs rubbing small circles in them.

He smiles around his brother’s girth and goes to sucking him, enjoying every moment of it. His hands are running up and down his thighs, stroking his ass, and cupping his balls before repeating the cycle. While he is curious about his brother’s hole and what it would feel like, it is not his primary focus right now.

It startles him when his brother starts to beg, it is not something he ever imagined him doing, “Please, please, please, I feel empty, please!” his voice has a keening edge and the doctor immediately sets to soothing him before raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“You or me?” the blonde queries, voice full of authority.

Releasing his brother’s cock, he questions, “I can…?” his voice trails off, while part of his mind realizes that oral sex is a form of sex, he did not expect to be allowed to penetrate him.

“Myt’s a bottom. Enjoys a good slow love making or a rough fuck, particularly enjoys being filled,” the doctor answers patiently.

He flushes, his ignored cock leaking at the idea of being inside that tight looking hole. He has never been inside anyone before and barely recalls what it was like to have someone in him because of how high he was at the time.

Sitting up he looks between his brother whose entire body is flushed in need and the doctor sitting beside them so calmly, small hands stroking his brother’s body.

“How?” he questions wanting to make sure he is not going to harm him.

Smiling, the doctor, shifts his positioning, grabbing a pillow and carefully shoving it under the bottom of his back. However he frowns a moment later, “Lube?”

“Top drawer, I just opened it last night,” he answers blushing as he remembers getting himself off to the memory of his brother and flatmate.

Quickly getting up to grab it, the smaller man returns to the bed a minute later though he pauses in order to give his brother a long kiss that has his blood boiling even further. Then he clamors up next to him, before opening the lube and putting a generous amount on his fingers. “It’s best to use extra instead of less,” the doctor tells him, before continuing, “Start by rubbing the area around his hole in order to get the muscles to relax, then slip a single finger in, with him its best to work it in a circle before adding a second.” The doctor withdraws his hand, motioning for him to try.

Flushing and biting his lip, he does just that, listening to every noise to make sure he is not hurting him. His brother’s hole is tight, almost clinching around his finger, as if trying to draw him deeper, when it starts to feel looser, he inserts a second, carefully working it as well, before attempting a third at which point the doctor leans close to his ear to speak.

“Scissor your fingers, stretch him out. Remember your cock is bigger than your fingers so do not do him a disservice.” He whispers into his ear as he slides behind him, hands rubbing his shoulders, along his back carefully, and down to his ass. “May I?” he inquires, a breath against his ear.

He nods and it takes him a moment to realize that John is waiting for vocal permission, “I, yes,” he answers, his voice breaking at the idea of having John within him. He had fantasized about it for months, but now that it was happening it was a bit overwhelming.

“Thank you,” he replies, “Keep working him open.”

He does as instructed, though his brother flinches when he accidently scraps a finger nail over his sensitive skin which gets him a light smack on the ass from the doctor and sends a jolt of lust through him.

When the doctor’s fingers join his, he is shocked still, and is shocked even further as he starts fingering his hole.

“Mmmmm, please,” his brother keens, hips lifting now that no one is holding them down.

“He’s ready,” the doctor murmurs in his ear before withdrawing his hand and seriously opening his.

For a moment the blonde pauses while he lines up and carefully slides in, groaning at the extreme tightness around him, the warmth. It is more than he could ever imagine. He is just considering moving when he feels the blunt tip of John’s cock at his ass and gasps as he slowly works it in, falling forward so he is face to face with his brother who leans up and kisses him, another shock considering how still Mycroft had been.

“Use your elbows to support yourself so you do not reinjure your wrist,” his brother instructs him as his long fingers take hold of his hips.

Nodding blankly, he does so, finding that his angle changes slightly, as does the angle that John is in.

“Let me do the work,” John suggests as he hold his hips.

He nods head dropping so it is against his brother’s collarbone as the doctor sets a slow and steady pace. Sooner than he would like to his balls start to draw up, and he finds himself coming with a low moan.

Somehow John works a hand between his and his brother’s body, taking hold of his cock and stroking him in time to the trusts and even though he has already come he finds he doesn't want to move. In just a handful of strokes and thrusts and they are coming as well, the doctor with a groan as he presses hard and holds, his brother with a long, low moan.

For a long time after it seems the three of them stay as they are, before his flatmate turned lover carefully withdraws from his now deliciously tender ass and he does the same from his brother. He finds he does not have much energy and sprawls beside his brother with his head on his shoulder. Tiredly he watches in confusion as John leaves the bed and room.

“What…”he begins wishing he did not feel so exhausted.

Sighing lazily, his brother wraps a loose arm around him, and answers, “Warm wet flannel to clean us up before napping. How he remains so energetic afterwards I never understand.”

Minutes later the smallest of their number has returns with a small bowl and a flannel. Gently the blonde cleans his brother’s chest off while he watches before cleaning his ass and cock as well. After rinsing the flannel he repeats the process with him before setting it aside and covering the two of them up with his comforter.

Settling on the edge of the bed, the blonde leans down, kissing his brother gently on the lips before asking, “You alright?”

He nods sleepily, a small smile curving his lips.

“And you?” the doctor inquires looking over at him.

“Yes John,” he replies yawning, he really hates being so tired but he has not felt this good in years despite the pain in his wrist and back.

Despite his best efforts he drifts off to sleep listening to his brother’s heartbeat and feeling like he might actually belong.


	8. Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall
> 
>  **Warning** death of a child and mentions of violence

_John’s POV_

After his boys fall asleep he heads to the living room, grabbing his phone and calling Tom with military supply to request another special tag to be made, this time using his new lovers information. Whenever he considered Sherlock coming home he had not expected it to go quite the way it did, particularly not the end part where he was buried in his best friends ass while his best friend fucked his love. Of all the possible scenarios that one had definitely never been one of them.

Checking his messages he remembers that Greg had left him a message yesterday, so he calls up the copper, “Lestrade,” he picks up on the second ring.

“Hi Greg, I saw you left a message, what’s going on?” he greets his friend.

“You remember Andy Shaw?” his friend replies, his voice grave.

Closing his eyes he thinks of the little boy with the green eyes, the first time he had met him had been the same day he had snap and given his politician his first blow job after having an epiphany. Since then he had visited the child several times a month in the children’s ward of St. Bart’s hospital, child services having decided not to put him in a foster home since he was terminal. “Of course I remember Andy, I still go see him regularly.”

“Well he wanted me to tell you to come as soon as you can.” the copper tells him sadly.

“What’s going on?” he demands, his voice softening but growing a lot colder.

“His kidneys and liver went into failure yesterday, I’m listed as his emergency contact and he wanted me to get you.” The older man tells him softly, sorrow in his voice.

“I’ll be there in half hour,” he informs him, not waiting to see if his friend has anything else to add before he hangs up.

Heading into the bedroom, he kisses each of his geniuses once before, writing a note for them and leaving it on the table beside the bed. He then heads upstairs to dress debating between calling a cab or texting Anthea. The debate is settled for him when he hears the older brother coming up the stairs on his phone.

“The car will be here shortly, would you like company or to do this alone?” His politician inquires politely from the door.

He turns, smiling wanly at his love and answers, “I would appreciate the company.”

Nodding, the politician heads to the closet to get one of the two suits he always keeps here for incase he gets called in on a day off. “I realize this may not be the best time to mention it, however Sherlock has invited me to live here.”

He smiles, nods absently, “I hope you said yes this time?” Roughly six months ago he had asked the politician to officially move in since he unofficially lived there already and only returned to his flat for clothing and occasionally work.

His lover nods as he finishes buttoning his shirt, “I have, at this time I will keep that flat for my things that will not fit here, perhaps in the future we can do a slight rearrange to get the rest of it here.” He pauses for a minute before continuing, “And so if we ever need a night off we have somewhere private to retreat to.”

Once they are dressed, he hugs the older man, probably a bit longer than he needs to, just listening to his heartbeat for a minute before the two separate. “You’re wonderful,” he tells the politician before they head down the stairs.

In the living room they find Sherlock standing at the door to the kitchen, “What’s going on?”

“A friend and patient of mine wishes for my presence during the last hours of his life, and Mycroft has offered to go with me since I do not do well with Bart’s,” he answers.

There is a look of sudden realization along with shame on the younger man’s features and he quickly crosses over to him to hug him, “It’s alright, I understand why you did what you did, and I already got my frustration out. We’ll talk about it later alright?”

The dark-haired genius nods, once murmuring, “I am going to lie back down, my back is throbbing in time with my arm.”

“Rest well, I don’t know when we will be back, depending on the time I’ll either pick up dinner on the way home or make something when we get back,” he tells the younger man before turning and heading towards the door.

When he gets outside with the politician close behind the black car is idling at curb. Silently the two of them climb in, with him greeting his politician’s dark haired assistant. The ride to hospital is just as quiet as when they got into the vehicle. At the hospital, the three of them slide out of the vehicle and he forces himself not to look up just like he does every time he comes here. As a rule, he rarely comes to Bart’s except to see Andy because he hates the reminder of watching his best friend fake his own suicide.

As they are heading into the hospital, a group of tall men, all of them wearing very similar dark fatigues spots them and the tallest in the group exclaims, “Watson? Three Continents Watson? It’s great to see you!”

He can feel the tension in the air as Mycroft’s eyes sweep the entire group and the big one tries to hug him, only for him to step under and slug his friend in the stomach. “Stop flirting Rick, you were never my tastes.” He tells him, before scanning the group and identifying most their faces, “Hi George, Tom, Jimmy, Edward, Al, Mark, and Frank. What are you all doing here?”

“We’re here for our physicals. We don’t currently have a medic and didn’t want to go do it with Jason’s unit.” Frank answers him, “What about you, you’re looking healthy and she’s too high class to be yours, at least for the long term, TC.”

“Bite your tongue,” he playfully responds, “Visiting a child in the wards, dying of cancer,” stepping back by Mycroft he continues, “Mycroft, these are some of the troublemakers I used to be assigned to patch up.” He doesn’t relist their names cause he knows his love recalls each.

“A bloke? Since when?” that’s out of Al, the smallest in the group, “You always favored skirts, despite many a man’s offers otherwise.”

“Since him,” he replies with a smile, heading towards the door with the politician close by.

He visits with the soldiers as the now large group heads through the building, since not all of them will fit on the lift, the soldiers ask which floor and take the stairs, meeting them upstairs.

Since it is just him, Mycroft and Anthea, he presses close to the politician for a moment commenting softly, “Thank you for not minding the blokes, they mean well.”

A small smile curves his politician’s lips as he answers equally soft, “They care for you. In each of their postures towards you they would protect you with their lives.” He lowers his head just a little so they are almost touching cheek to cheek without the contact, “I can understand their loyalty.” Then he straightens up, so that unless a person was there during their exchange they would never know about it.

In the corner he sees the Anthea smiling behind her phone as she stays just a little behind them. When they exit the elevator the blokes are waiting for them, all lined up and standing in parade ready much to his amusement. Quietly the group moves through the hall, most of the doctors and patients saying hello to him as they do so. Technically there is only supposed to be three visitors at a time, however he is pretty certain that the doctors in the ward will not complain, particularly not for a children without family.

When they get to Andy’s room, he knocks twice before entering, inside he finds the little boy looking pale and tired, barely awake, “Hi Andy, Greg said you wanted me to come by, and some friends of mine heard of a brave little boy fighting cancer and wanted to meet you if that’s okay.”

“Hi John, Mycroft,” his voice is very scratchy, nearly impossible to hear, “I’d like that.”

Beside him the politician turns on his heel, going to the door and speaking with the boys who quickly enter single file behind the politician when he returns to his side.

“This is Rick, George, Tom, Jimmy, Edward, Al, Mark, and Frank.” He points to each of the soldiers.

The little boy’s eyes widen as he stares at them, a huge smile curving his lips as he looks at them. “How do you know John?” he rasps out, voice breaking before he tries to reach for his water that he cannot lift.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Al holds it for him, allowing him to sip at it while Rick answers, “He saved each of us at least once when we were in the war zone.”

“Tell me please,” he whispers before sipping more water.

Jimmy is the first to speak up, “We were out doing a rescue mission once, had to go help some locals who hit a landmine and managed to survive it, though their truck was toast, and we got ambushed.”

“I remember that,” Tom cuts in, “here comes this short bloke wearing fatigues with a RAMC patch on, he’s got a medical bag thrown over his shoulder and is calmly shooting each and every one of our attackers that he can spot like its nothing.”

When Tom takes a breath, Jimmy returns to talking, “It was like one of those movies, where the good bloke gets the bad ones even with the bullets flying, and he gets up to where we are, his escort still aways back because he had decided not to wait for them, and he looks around and goes, ‘I thought I’m the medic here’, before setting to working on every single injured person.”

“Despite the chaos we didn’t lose anyone that day,” Edward remarks.

From there each of the blokes takes turn’s telling Andy about different times he went wading into the various messes they got themselves into to save them. All eight soldiers stay with him, each taking a turn next to the little boy while their eyes occasionally flicker to the machines, understanding that the slower paces on the machines are heralding the end of the little boy’s life before he has even had a chance to really live one.

Greg comes by for a bit, but he is on shift and cannot stay for long. He seems shocked to see the soldiers there and listens for a bit before he has to go, giving Andy a hug before he goes.

At one point there is a loud racket from the hall, a man screaming about how he was going to see his son. He recognizes the voice and automatically does the hand signal for trouble. Rick, Edward, Mark, and Frank all step outside of the room, making a solid wall of soldier. When the jackass who thought it was perfectly acceptable to hit a sick child tries to enter he finds his way blocked and he excuses himself, feeling his lover’s eyes following him as he joins the four in the hall.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he states clearly, standing with the soldiers.

“That’s my son!” the man just about yells.

“Not any longer, your rights were terminated for the physical damage you did,” he replies voice remaining cool, “Leave.”

“Sir, you cannot be here,” one of the nurses tries to tell him, “Please do not make us call security.”

“You cost me everything!” the man yells and darts forward, apparently not paying attention to the soldiers. He does not get very far before he is on the ground howling, his legs being bent at an awkward angle.

Two orderlies and a couple of nurses swarm around them, lifting him and taking him away. They return to in the room, none of the other staff members say anything about the fact that there is too many people according to visiting rules. Minute’s later Greg shows up to take their statements, chuckling at how deadpan all four are and visiting for a few minutes longer before giving Andy one more hug and heading back to work.

“You’re safe, little one, no one will ever hurt you again,” Frank tells him when it is his turn to sit next to him, “It’s alright to just let go. That does not make you less strong or less of a fighter, it just means you’re tired,” he softly tells the little boy as he runs a big hand over his head gently.

“Thank you,” Andy whispers, his eyes closing one last time as his breathing stutters and stops.

Even though he was not the doctor on duty, he called time and cause of death, writing them down with his neat scrawl on the chart before turning the machines off, Andy had a do not resuscitate order.

Stepping back as the medical staff enter the room, he is discreetly pulled against his lovers chest, arms wrapping loosely around him in a show of support and comfort. It lasts only for a minute before the auburn-haired genius has returned to his perfect posture and steps back while staying close. He smiles sadly to himself appreciating the gesture. As the nurse pulls the sheet over him there group files out silently.

In the hall Rick looks at him and states, “Does he have family besides that thing?”

“No, he’s a state ward,” he replies sadly.

“Make arrangements like we’ve done in the past. Al, make sure he has your number so this pain in the arse can get the intel to us.” Rick bosses, much to his amusement.

A moment later Al nods, pulling out his phone and they exchange information.

Meanwhile the rest of the blokes look around the ward, that calculating look he knows so well on most their faces.

“How late are we?” Edward queries, with a glance to Al.

“Late implies she’s still in the office, good thing she’s the commander’s daughter so she knows us, otherwise we’d be getting yelled at for completely missing it. George, run downstairs and alert Ms Willow what came up.”

“That will not be necessary,” Mycroft states from beside him, motioning to his assistant who sets to typing on her phone.

Rick gives his partner a speculative look before a questioning look is thrown at him.

“If he says it’s not necessary, its not necessary.” He answers that unspoken question, giving his politician a thankful smile.

“Cleared until ten pm to be here,” Anthea states as she glances up for a moment before returning to her phone.

“Thank you,” Rick tells him with a small salute.

All around them, the children of the ward are immerging to see the group of soldiers. Some of them send their family members out to see what’s going on if the hall. Most of the doctors and nurses look on shaking their head, not interfering and just watching as the kids get cheered up by the collection of soldiers. He introduces the group to the head of the ward, explaining that they are getting ready to deploy and wanted to spend some time making others smile before they do so. While Doctor Cutler is exasperated, she allows it because she is happy to see the children’s reactions.

It is not long after that that he excuses himself, citing that he needs to make arrangements and has a patient that he has to check up on. Each of the blokes from his old team make it a point to hug him, most demanding that he write them, because damned they are not happy to have lost touch with each other. He promises to do so, lifting his phone and mentioning that he now has Al’s number, he’ll try harder in the future.

When they get to the car the PA inquires, “What arrangements do they want you to make?” there is curiosity in her voice as she looks up from her phone.

Curling fairly close to his politician’s side, not quite touching but close enough to feel his lover’s body heat through the suit, “In the past, when we have visited with children living in hospitals, when their families cannot take care of the bills or they do not have family, the blokes have paid for it. I’m the least imposing but best at getting what I want, so it was always mine or Al’s task.”

She nods, sending a questioning glance at his politician who nods in response, pulling him a little closer.

“She’ll make all the arrangements and alert, Al I believe, to what they are,” the older man murmurs softly.

“Thank you,” he softly states, voice full of gratitude.

“We’ve missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I know how much you believe in eating, I will have food delivered.” His lover states calmly, “Perhaps Indian?”

He nods, leaning his head against the taller man’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He always hates it when he sees a child die. The only comfort he has is at least Andy passed in peace and full of happiness, in the sixteen months he had known the little boy, that was the most he had ever seen him smile or heard him laugh. His last day was full of joy.

At the flat, he silently follows his politician upstairs before automatically heading to the kitchen to make tea. He contemplates cooking, it is a great way for him to release his stress but he does not want to right now. Really all he wants is a nice long cuddle, maybe his auburn-haired love would bare with him and do so.

He has just finished the tea when the brothers come into the kitchen, Mycroft taking the tray with the teas on it, Sherlock taking hold of his arm and leading him into the younger man’s bedroom. Blankly he glances between the two of them, before being gently shoved on the bed, before the younger man climbs up and pulls him backwards a bit. A minute later the older one joins them. Both brothers wrap their arms around him, pressing him close between them.

“It’s alright to mourn John,” Sherlock murmurs in his ear, “You’re a compassionate and empathic person.”

“You wanted to bring him home with you,” Mycroft eventually states, giving him a curious look, “But never talked to me about it, why?”

He shrugs, answering, “I don’t have the time or ability to constantly care for a child going through the last stages of cancer, it's why I made it a point to visit Bart’s to see him often.”

Blushing he presses his head against the dark-haired man’s chest, listening to that steady heartbeat he had once though he would not hear again. For a while the three of them are silent, occasionally one of them will move to drink some tea. Eventually he hears the sound of the door bell and his auburn-haired lover goes to fetch there dinner, it was one of his staff delivering the food.

“Come on,” he mutters as he slips to the edge of the bed, “Let’s go eat.”

“Do I have to?” the younger brother grumbles but without heat, following him out into the living room where the older brother had laid out their dinner.

The three eat in comfortable silence and he is thankful that they seem to understand his sentiments.

After dinner the three of them retreat back to Sherlock’s room. There, the auburn-haired man slowly strips off all of his clothing except for his pants before shoving him towards the bed. There he is pulled down and against the dark-haired brother’s chest. Minutes later the auburn-haired brother joins them wearing his sleeping clothes. He falls asleep with the pair gently holing him, held close to both so he can hear both of their heartbeats as they drift off.

He is the first to awaken in the morning, coming to with the same sharp attention as when he was in the war zone. It takes him a minute to understand why he is so warm, he is used to having the politician pressed against him in sleep, he was thankfully not bothered by his tendency to cuddle but it takes him a minute to recall who is curled up against his back. Smiling, he kisses each of their foreheads before carefully edging off the bed and heading to the shower.

Once he is done with that, he cleans up the living room and kitchen, gets their mugs to wash, and sets to making breakfast for them. They need to have a more detailed discussion about their relationship, what each person expects, and how they wish to handle it.

He is just finishing laying out the food options he has made when the auburn-haired genius comes out of the room in his simple night clothes and slippers, stepping behind him the taller man gives him a hug before gently kissing the base of his neck, “Better?” he questions, a single word with a wealth of meaning.

“I am, thank you, with the exception of when Sherlock ‘died’ I have always handled death well, it comes with both my careers after all.” He shrugs, “I have a day or two of sadness then return to normal.”

His politician nods against his shoulder, kissing him one more time softly before making a plate for himself, accepting his cup of tea and heading into the living room.

Peeking his head into the bedroom, he spots his dark-haired flatmate sprawled on his bed with his eyes partly open.”Come on you, come eat breakfast, we need to have a discussion.”

Sighing the taller man grumbles, “If you insist, but that’s so boring.”

“I insist, if you wish to join mine and your brother’s relationship permanently, you have to follow the same rules that we live by.” He informs the boffin seriously, “Now come eat.”

Turning on his heel, he returns to the kitchen, making himself a plate before going into the living room and getting comfortable on the sofa near his politician though not exactly touching.

A few minutes later his chemist enters the room carrying a small plate. He then returns to the kitchen to grab his tea before settling into his chair. “Alright John, I have food and am in attendance, let us have this talk you insist on.”

He chuckles lightly, “I firmly believe in stating clear expectations for a relationship, sadly most people do not pay attention to those expectations. That is an even bigger reason for most of my relationships ending besides your behavior at the time,” he begins. “As such mine for this relationship between the three of us are very similar to my expectations between the relationship between myself and Mycroft or myself and Sherlock.” He pauses to take a couple bites to eat, “Now, I understand that Mycroft has a busy schedule, and that once Sherlock is ‘no longer dead’ we will be busy on cases once more. However I expect to still have at least one night a month where it is just Mycroft and myself, one night where it is Sherlock and myself, one night where you two spend time together not fighting. The rest of the time will be as scheduling allows, is that acceptable?”

Both brother’s nod in understanding but he continues to wait until they speak aloud. A small smile plays at Mycroft’s lips as he answers, “Yes John,” and Sherlock’s is pouty.

“Honesty is the only thing I really ask for, and while I understand there are things that cannot be said,” he nods to the politician as he says that, an acknowledgment of his career and the secrets he keeps, “however I expect it for personal matters.” He is looking directly at the consulting detective as he states that.

He watches as the dark-haired man swallows once before nodding once and answering softly, “Yes John, I…”

He waves off the apology he knows is coming, that is a discussion for another time, not right now. “Despite the fact there are three of us, I still plan to stay monogamous within our unit, I will not be seeking partners outside our relationship,” he continues. With a mischievous smile he remarks, “I am tactile however, so expect to be touched when we are here, though rarely in public. Despite that, I want either of you to tell me if it is too much since I know neither of you are the most tactile.”

Blushing, the dark-haired brother comments, “Actually I am, people like to _hurt_ each other too much for me to trust them, so I tend to use luxurious clothing instead.”

“You have always read my limits well,” the auburn-haired brother states softly, a small smile curving his lips.

“Good, now do either of you have any expectations you wish to express?” he asks looking between the pair.

“I want the bickering to stop if we are going to be in a shared relationship,” the politician states after several minutes of silence.

Biting his lip, the consulting detective thinks about it for a few minutes before nodding once, then remembering the rule that all must be spoken aloud he comments, “I will try.” Still biting his lip he comments, “Have patience with me, I have never been in a serious relationship.”

He chuckles at that, “Sherlock we always have patience with you, it’s almost a requirement for dealing with you on a long term basis.” He considers continuing but his phone goes off. Checking the text message he sees its from Tom, and states aloud, “Excuse me,” before going downstairs. His old military friend is standing on the front stoop, a small box in his hands, “Hi Tom, wasn’t expecting you to deliver it in person.”

The older man smiles at him, shrugging, “I have to deliver the batch I made for the new soldiers, so I figured I would give it to you in person, now I have to go, keep in touch yeah?”

“Alright, ta Tom,” he responds before shutting the door and heading back upstairs. “Is there anything further we need to discuss?” he asks his boys as he looks between them.

“I do not believe so,” the politician answers after sharing a look with his brother.

“Good,” he replies smiling, then turns and trots up to his room where he pulls out his dog tags, taking the second one from the set that Mycroft has part of and putting it with the tag in the box in his hand. He grins at the braided leather cord, it is exactly what he wanted.

Heading back downstairs he finds that Sherlock has not moved, however Mycroft is in the process of picking everything up from breakfast. Walking over to the dark-haired man he comments, “I know you like the customized tag I got for Mycroft so I called Tom about having a second one made,” he hands the younger man the box.

Accepting it, the dark-haired genius opens it up and pulls it out, a delighted smile curving his lips as he studies what his says and then puts it on. He is surprised by the detective jumping to his feet and hugging him, “Thank you John,” he whispers in his ear before hugging him some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Mycroft's tags, Sherlock's were made by the lovely NoOrdinarySouthernGirl


	9. Being Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall
> 
>  **Warning** mention of suicidal thoughts and faked suicide

_Sherlock’s POV_

After his brother and best friend leave the flat he decides to stretch out on his sofa rather than his bed. It had been two years since he could sink all the way into his Mind Palace without having to worry about his safety and he was moderately certain there is information he needed to delete and other information he really needed to process into its correct category. However that is not his purpose for today. Right now he needs to think about John, Mycroft, their situation, what he wants from it, and how it will affect the future.

His eyes drift closed in the real world as they open within his Mind Palace. Carefully looking around he notices all the dust and shadowy areas and frowns. He really needs to do some mental cleaning. With a shake of his head, he heads for the hall and chambers dedicated to John. The first one he comes to is actually the primary one, with a mental copy of the small army doctor sitting in the middle of a living room like room that shows obvious signs of being lived in but cared for.

“Your counterpart made love to me while showing me how to do the same with my brother.” He tells the version of John from within his mind.

Smiling, the phantom simply states, “Good.”

Intellectually he knows it’s his own mind, but the simple statement reverberates through him. Is it really that simple? For years there had been issues between himself and his brother. Was part of it due to an attraction he had not wanted or was the attraction due to John suggesting it?

Wandering from the room he allows instinct to guide him, finding himself in another room in the John wing. A new room, one that is dedicated to John the lover in practice rather than in theory. Here he re-watches the doctor with his brother, not paying attention to the doctor but to his brother. Studying every microsecond of his brother’s expression: the need, the want, the desire, the longing, the heartbreak, and above all the hope. All of it there to be seen as the smaller man’s hands touches him as he touches the smaller man in response.

The scene changes and they are now in his bedroom, John holding his brother’s face so very tenderly as he kisses him, long and sensual. Mycroft’s reaction was electric, sent bolts of lust right through him. His eyes had drifted shut, his hands had clutched at the doctor like he was a lifeline. All those emotions he had noticed earlier when they were on the bed upstairs are there again, just below the surface but there is more. There is fear and worry and shame and tension. Yet it slowly fades away as the doctor continues to kiss him, being replaced by pleasure, joy, and trust.

That trust is the one he is most surprised by. In his lifetime there are very few moments he can recall his brother ever trusting and none of those moments were as deep as what he had seen between the two last night. Without thought or question he had watched as his brother handed over every scrap of control to the doctor with absolute trust.

If he was to force them apart now it would break Mycroft in a way nothing else could. Any scrap of trust or affection he might show would be gone forever with no way of ever getting it back.

Blinking in shock, he is almost instantly taken to the part of his Mind Palace dedicated to his brother. Glancing around he decides to review their earlier years. As he watches different scenes from their past he realizes that the rivalry was one of his making, not Mycroft’s. In every scene he watches with his new awareness how even when he was little the auburn-haired boy tried to be there for him, even when he was being bratty, even when he did not want to according to his expression, even where there was a price that Mycroft ended up paying for it. There in the past he could see the affection that would slowly vanish as they got older.

The most dramatic change came when his brother was in uni. Any signs of emotions that he had previously was gone replaced by a coolness that set his teeth on edge. He would bait and nettle the older man in hopes of getting a rise out of him, in hopes of seeing that brother who used to rock him when he was scared, the one who had taught him to deal with the overload. His brother went from slightly overweight and told about it regularly by people they knew to far too gaunt looking. It was then he started nettling him about his weight.

In the years to follow he would take up recreational drugs in order to cope and he forgot this, forgot that once he was not his brother’s enemy, even if not really his friend.

At no time in his brother’s life does he see him close to anyone. He does not even find a friend, merely him through it all. As he rose through the ranks of politics he had perfected his coldness. Earning the nickname the Iceman, a name he had silently agreed with even knowing that his brother was not actually that cold.

Mentally sighing he withdraws from his brother’s wing in his Mind Palace, heading to the part he hates the most, his own emotional reactions and responses. Carefully he sorts through his childhood and teenage year’s emotions, watching as his own change from a curious and somewhat caring to the drug user who was a lot different from the person he was now. Through each stage he had grown colder as well, all the way up until he met John.

John was his turning point and apparently he was his brother’s turning point too.

Opening his eyes in the real world he gets up to wander around the flat, checking the time and realizing he is has been out for nearly eight hours and yet there is no sign of either of them. He considers taking a shower but decides not to because he does not want to get his wrappings wet and his best friend mad at him.

Heading into his bedroom, he stops and stares at the bed, clearly remembering his brother spread out beneath him, allowing him to explore to his heart content. It felt amazing. As amazing as the first time he had gotten high. As amazing as the first time John had muttered ‘amazing’ at that crime scene.

Attraction, he is attracted to his brother, as he’s attracted to his flatmate.

It is a surprising realization and one that he will have to spend more time thinking about. Stretching out on his bed, he enjoys the smell of himself mingled with his brother and blogger. It smelled like home, like belonging.

The next thing he is aware of is the room getting cooler and a car door opening outside the flat. Getting up he wanders into the living room to wait. He does not have to wait long before they are entering the flat though John does not seem to notice him as he heads into the kitchen, sadness pouring off the smaller man as he goes.

He frowns, glancing at his brother and raising a single questioning eyebrow, had the child died?

His brother barely twitches but does just enough to confirm that he had read the situation correctly.

“He’s making tea?” he questions softly so his voice will not carry to the other room.

“Yes, I believe he would prefer to cuddle however.” His brother responds as he glances towards the kitchen.

Tilting his head he thinks about it a minute before nodding, “Then we should, he tries to always be there for us, at least I know he was like that before and I cannot imagine it is different now, so we should be there for him.”

There is a hint of a smile playing at his brother’s lips as he nods and turns towards the kitchen.

Both of them head in there, his brother taking the tray that John had set the teas on before he has a chance to lift it himself, while he gently grasps the smaller man’s arm and tugs him towards the bedroom. It worries him how easily the blonde follows where he leads as he pushes him towards the door and to the bedroom, just as it worries him the blank expression on his face. His John should never have a blank face. His face was expressive, telling him about what his friend is feeling.

Pushing the smaller man onto the bed, he quickly clamors up curls up close against him on his less injured side. On the other side of their doctor his brother curls around him. Between the two of them they hold their lover and friend close.

Settling his head against the blondes shoulder he murmurs encouragingly, or what he hopes is encouragingly, “It’s alright to mourn John,” he gently rubs his nose against the back of his ear, “You’re a compassionate and empathic person.”

The doctor does not comment, merely wraps an arm around each, pulling them closer. His darker eyes drifting shut as he stays still between the two of them.

Eventually his brother remarks quietly, “You wanted to bring him home with you,” an odd note to his brother’s tone, “But never talked to me about it, why?”

Shrugging, the doctor answers in a flat tone that is just as concerning as the blank expression, “I don’t have the time or ability to constantly care for a child going through the last stages of cancer, it’s why I made it a point to visit Bart’s to see him often.”

A slight flush covers the doctor’s face as he ducks his head and presses it against his chest.

Eventually Mycroft reaches for his tea, still sitting up but not pressing close and he has his brother hand him his so he can sip at it carefully, making sure not to spill it on his friend turned lover. He even gets John to drink some of his when his brother goes to get their dinner from the delivery man.

Sighing, the smaller man remarks “Come on,” as he slides off of the bed, “Let’s go eat.”

He grumbles more out of habit than anything else, “Do I have to?” but follows him into the living room without further complaint.

Dinner is silent, normal for himself and his brother, not so much for John except the fact he seems to be mourning. As dinner comes to a close, he shares a silent conversation with his brother, coming to an agreement that they should return to cuddling with their doctor. After dinner, he tugs the blonde back into his room, and while his brother undresses the smaller man, he gets out of the majority of his clothing and crawls on the bed. Once the blonde is in nothing more than his pants his brother shoves him towards the bed and he pulls the smaller man down, tugging him against his chest so that the blonde’s head is pressed just above his heart. A few minutes later his brother climbs in bed with a full sleeping outfit covering everything expect his hands, feet, neck, and head.

He is definitely going to get his brother some other sleeping clothing for gifts.

As the other two drift off to sleep, first John, than Mycroft, he continues to think about the changes to his life. Three days ago he was chained between two walls getting the living hell beaten out of him. To protect himself he had withdrawn into his mind for the most part, leaving only a small part aware of what was going on while he tried to plot his way out. He had only immerged from his mind when he felt a familiar presence in the room and had been mildly surprised when he realized it was his brother. It annoys him that he cannot recall what was said or how he actually escaped since he knows that the chance of himself out were small. At the office his brother had said a thank you would not go amiss and that he had been the one to get him out. This confuses him as well since he knows how much his brother hates field work, he could have sent someone else to retrieve him and yet he did not. He could even left him to try and get himself out but he did not.

According to his brother’s expression shortly after he had exploded at him about seducing John he had complete gotten wrong. It was not Mycroft who did the seduction, it was the doctor. That also threw him off because he never would have imagined that of the blonde man. He was as straight as one gets, physically attracted to women, in the year and a half before the Fall he had never seen the doctor attracted to any other man except him on a few rare occasions, but it was never for very long and always gone before he had to do anything about it. So how did he change so much that he decided to seduce his brother? His blogger had stated he had an epiphany and pinned his brother to the wall, it must have been a massive epiphany.

Eventually he drifts off to sleep, his bad arm stretched across the doctor to touch his brother and reassure himself that he is there still.

He awakes when the doc tor gently kisses him on the forehead before wiggling off the bed. Since he is comfortable, he stays still simply listening to the comforting and familiar sounds of his flatmate moving around the flat, making tea, cooking breakfast.

“He’s going to want us to eat,” his brother murmurs sleepily, voice low and husky, a tone he’s never actually heard before.

Groaning softly, he buries his head in the pillow as he asks, “Why?”

Lifting his head he glances over at his brother who has a somewhat mischievous expression on his face, “That’s John,” he answers simply.

A little bit later his brother stretches and he watches the way the fabric moves against his skin, the shirt just long enough that it still covers his stomach as he does so.

Still relaxing, he considers the fact that he is attracted to both, he had not found any focused on moments, but there was traces of it, split seconds of attraction throughout the years that were always followed by him being worse to his sibling. Perhaps that was his minds way of making him stay away from that idea.

A few minutes later his blogger pops his head in the door stating, “Come on you, come eat breakfast, we need to have a discussion.”

Lightly grumbling he mutters, “If you insist, but that’s so boring.”

There is a slight twitch of the smaller man’s lips like he is trying not to smile as he comments, “I insist, if you wish to join mine and your brother’s relationship permanently, you have to follow the same rules that we live by.” His tone is serious as he continues, “Now come eat.”

Before he can answer the doctor has already returned to the kitchen and he lays back smiling at the ceiling.

It was one thing for his brother to invite him into the relationship, important, shocking, and thrilling. It is a totally different thing for his blogger to say it too. Particularly since in every relationship the doctor was in he was monogamous, his romantic focus purely on the person he was seeing at the time. Or the fact he cannot recall his brother ever being in a relationship. Yet both of them want him as part of their relationship. He is terrified and thrilled at the same time, he does want this however, if they are willing so he best get up and get a small plate of food.

Getting of the bed he pads into the kitchen in order to get himself a small plate of food, only mildly surprised to see a small plate with a piece of bread and a few pieces of fruit waiting for him with a cup of steaming tea next to it. He smiles to himself, considering how to get both out there when he determines he will just have to make two trips because it will be safer for him.

Once he has made his two trips and is nibbling at the bread in his chair he comments, “Alright John, I have food and am in attendance, let us have this talk you insist on.”

A soft chuckle escapes the doctor before he starts talking, gently but firmly going over his expectations for the poly-relationship. They are actually pretty simple as far as they can go. Even the one expectation from his brother is something he can try to do. Though he has a feeling that if his brother had not requested it, John would have.

He does not understand why the doctor did not allow him to apologize for faking his death. Perhaps the doctor wishes to have that as part of a different conversation?

When John gets a text message telling him someone is at the door for him he looks at his brother and asks, “He did not take my being gone well did he?”

“No, he was suicidal for a while, every time it was going to be a danger night for him, I would show up.” his brother answers him softly.

“Are you really willing to share him, not just saying it in hopes of avoiding me trying to take him?” he demands softly, his ears perked and listening for their doctor.

His brother inclines his head solemnly, “I am indeed, I think it will work,” his brother flushes brightly for a moment, “Last night proves we can be compatible with him there.”

He nods once, trying not to blush himself.

As John comes up the steps back to the flat he hears his brother’s phone go off in the bedroom.

Sighing, his brother fetches the phone and is back before their lover can enter the room.

“Is there anything further we need to discuss?” the blonde asks from the door, glancing between them.

He gives a tiny shake of his head at his brother’s questioning look, then his brother answers for them, “I do not believe so.”

Smiling, the blonde states, “Good,” before turning and leaving the room, heading up to his old bedroom.

They will have to move his things down to the main bedroom. He will also clean up the second closet so that his brother has a place for his clothing. Actually, it might be best to have a professional clean that second closet. Or maybe he should just talk to his brother about the moving plans. Of course it will have to be when he gets home because that was the tone for his assistant which means he has been called into work.

His brother has set to cleaning up the dishes from breakfast, though he does not understand why, he knows that the blonde will do that. Though, his brother is a bit OCD so that might be it.

A minute later his flatmate comes back into the room, a small box in his hand that the blonde offers to him as he states, “I know you like the customized tag I got for Mycroft so I called Tom about having a second one made.”

Accepting the box, he opens it up and stares at the tags. Like his brothers it has his blood type, John’s last name, and his last name. Unlike his brother’s it says SS for the initials and CD at the bottom. He grins when he realizes that the CD probably means consulting detective since the bottom seems to be the career path. Delighted he quickly puts it on before jumping to his feet and hugging the smaller man, murmuring, “Thank you John,” before giving him another squeeze.

Over the smaller man’s shoulder he sees his brother smiling at him, a genuine smile and not one of his false politician smiles.

When he hears a car pull to a stop out front his brother comments, “I have to go to work, Anthea is bring me an extra suit so I can leave the one upstairs there for the moment.”

Almost as soon as that is out of his mouth, the slender woman is knocking on their living room door, standing there with the suit bag in her hand. “Hello Sir, John,” her gaze flickers to him, “Sherlock.”

Taking his bag, his brother heads into the bedroom to change clothes before coming back into the room looking once more like the tight-laced politician he is when he is not within these walls. While he is doing that, the blonde chats with the dark-haired woman, asking how things have been and requesting that she makes sure his brother eats at least one meal. Really, John is possessed with food.

Once the politician and his PA leave, he turns to look at his flatmate and blogger. Three times he opens his mouth to ask him to talk, and three times his mouth snaps shut without a sound coming out of him. His friend notices this, and tilts his head curiously, with a thoughtful expression on his face. Why is this so hard? He has said far worse to him before without any difficulties, even once apologized to him in the middle of a case in a roundabout way when he realized that he had hurt the smaller man by saying that he had no friends when he really meant he had a single friend. Of course he would later realize he had more than just the one friend, but that never would have happened if not for John.

After making fresh teas for the both of them, the doctor settles on his chair and watches him for a moment before asking, “What is it you are trying to say?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, and like a cascade, once it starts it cannot stop, “I jumped because it was either going to be my life or yours, and mine is worth far less as far as I cared. I could not risk you, nor the others, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, but mostly you. While I was gone I realized why you were the most important one and became determined to win you. I had seen flashes of attraction despite the fact that you are straight.” He pauses for a minute looking at the floor before he looks back at the smaller man. “You can never commit suicide. I would be lost without you. Completely lost, since the first day you have lived here I have been changing, and for the better it seems.”

From there he goes on to tell him all about how he faked it. Then the why in a bit more detail, making sure that his lover understood exactly why. How he travelled from place to place destroy Moriarty’s web, dealing with every single person he could find in it no matter how big or small. Some he had merely turned over to the authorities, others he had made sure suffered from deadly accidents. None of them would ever be a threat again to their safety.

When he is done with that, he quickly jumps to his feet, moving over to the doctor, carefully grasping his face in his hands as he continues, “You are not allowed to do anything to harm yourself or kill yourself. It’s not just me that would hurt, but Mycroft and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson.”

The smaller man’s hands come up to cover his as the older man leans forward and captures his lips in a gentle kiss, “I’m not going anywhere,” the doctor whispers.

He is considering asking the doctor to take him to bed when he hears the lock downstairs and his head jerks up as he straightens, letting go of John and turning towards the door. A moment later he hears the familiar footsteps of Lestrade on the steps and retreats to his chair. This was not how he wanted today to go nor is it how he wanted to tell Lestrade.

“Hey, John, everything alright?” the detective inspector calls out as he is almost to the top of the steps.

Standing, his blogger states, “This conversation is not done,” before he heads into the kitchen as he answers a bit louder for the interloper to hear him, “Sit on the sofa Greg, teas nearly ready.”

“What the hell!” the older man exclaims as he sees him pausing in the door way, he can see him moving forward, his intent very easy to read in his posture and movement but before he has a chance he is stopped by the doctor stepping in front of him scowling.

“I said sit on the sofa.”

“That’s Sherlock! He’s fucking dead!”

“Yes I am aware that is Sherlock, I also spent several hours less than thirty-six hours ago patching him up. You may not damage him until he is no longer broken.” The doctor responds pointing at the sofa, “Now sit so I can fetch the tea.”

“You’re not dead? How?” he demands before groaning and palming his forehead hard, “I now owe Anderson fifty quid. Damn you.” Pretty close to falling onto the sofa the older man stares at him impatiently.

“What?” he demands after a few moments after the doctor has returns with his tray and three tea cups, setting his on his small table before giving one to the detective inspector and then one to him.

“How?” is all the detective inspector states in answer.

Sighing he looks to the doctor in hopes that the smaller man will help but he just shakes his head. He understands that is his friends way of saying he has to be the one to do this, but he really rather not. Still, might as well get it out of the way, it will not be nearly as hard as when he was explaining it to John. So for a second time today he explains the entire process. Only at the end of it, unlike with John he states, “You cannot say a word to anyone about me being alive yet. There is still paperwork that must be done first.”

For a minute the detective inspector’s mouth flaps open before he clenches it shut and nods once before turning his attention to the doctor. “Is this why you missed my phone call and left so quickly after Andy’s passing?”

“Partly.” His lover replies, not explaining anything about their relationship, which is probably good since he is officially still dead. Besides, he is moderately certain that it was never mentioned the doctor is in a relationship with his brother.

Shaking his head, the detective inspector sighs angrily, “I came by to check on you. Apparently I need not.”

The blonde’s voice is soft as he answers, “I do appreciate that you did. You were here for me during my darkest hours. We have not finished discussing his return or I would have texted to tell you to stop by. I did not lie to the staff at the hospital when I said I have a patient, and let me tell you, he’s one of the most stubborn patients a person can have.”

Chuckling, the detective inspector nods energetically, “Oh yeah, I remember that from the detox days. Good luck, mind if we get pints later this week?”

He watches as the blonde smiles and nods once, “I’ll probably need one by then.”

“I’d hug you, except then I would have to chin you first, and I don’t want John doing that to me, so I will do so later. It’s good to see you did the impossible,” the detective inspector tells him before leaving.

Sighing, his blogger remarks, “We’re not finishing that conversation at this moment but we will be finishing it.”

He nods standing up and walking over to him, “John, I…” he flushes lightly as he continues, “Will you show me how to use the anal plug?”

For a moment the smaller man stares at him before nodding slowly, “Of course, but first we are going to get you cleaned up and your injuries redressed.”

Sighing in relief that he does not have to explain the fact he wants to see if the feel between John’s cock and the toy is different and how it is to wear it for several hours he simply heads quirks and eyebrow in question as he waits for the smaller man to move.

Grinning mischievously, the doctor motions him to his bedroom without saying a word. Nodding, he does as directed and allows John to carefully remove all bandages, checking each injury carefully before he heads to the bathroom. He is mildly startled when the doctor joins him, though he is still dressed.

“What are you doing?” he demands shrilly as the door closes.

“You need a shower and with your hand and ribs in the shape they are in, you will be unable to reach everything. As both doctor and friend I am a better alternative to you hurting yourself.” He answers straightforwardly, “I am not climbing in with you, I am not touching you sexually, I am making sure that you are safe as you get cleaned up. That is all. Once you are clean, if you still want me to help with the anal plug I will.”

He can feel the flush on his skin and why he already knows that the smaller man has seen all of the marks, it is a far cry different him seeing them when he is out cold verse wide awake. His body tenses up as he waits for the judgment he is sure to come, only it never does. Carefully John helps him with his hair and reaching those spots that he cannot currently get to because of the pain. When he is done, the shorter man carefully towels him off before leading him back to the bedroom where he puts a bit more antiseptic on his inquires before rewrapping them. Not once through the entire thing does he say something about the marks and injuries, about the new scars, they are accepted as is without an issue.

Afterwards the blonde asks, “Do you still wish to proceed?”

He nods once slowly, thankful that he understands perfectly well.

“Alright, I’ll go get it,” the doctor remarks before turning and leaving the room.

While alone he takes a deep breath and steadies his emotions so that they are not all over the place before the doctor returns. When he does return, he actually has three different plugs with him, a cup of what looks like prune juice, and a thing of lube.

“Drink this,” he instructs, holding the cup out.

Frowning, he does so, noticing that there seems to be something else in the drink as well. Less than five minutes later he is bolting to the bathroom, his system completely emptying itself. When he is done, he washes up quickly, before stalking back to his room to frown at the doctor.

“That was not very politely done,” he remarks as he settles on the edge of the bed.

“Consider it my minor revenge for when you decided to drug me,” the doctor suggestively replies.

Nodding, he tries not to smirk, remembering exactly what his friend is speaking of. “Why did I do that?”

“Because you are not on an eating schedule, believe it or not both of us do the same at times when we know we wish to have sex, I actually mix it when it is bought so we only have to pour a cup and drink.” The doctor explains softly, “Mind you, you do not want to do so too often because it can harm your system.”

“Oh,” he replies staring at his flatmate, “Logical.”

“Now I brought all three plugs, you can choose which one you want to use,” he shows him each, besides being different sizes they are all identical otherwise.

He selects the smallest of them.

Smiling at him, the doctor nods, “Have you ever prepared yourself or played with yourself back there?”

He shakes his head, unable to form the words that he had not been attracted to anyone enough to feel the need.

“Mind if I prepare you this time then? It will be easier than if you try since your dominate hand is currently in a splint.”

After a few minutes of thinking about it he agrees slowly, “Alright.”

“Either lay back and spread your legs or kneel with your rump facing me,” the older man direct gently.

He chooses to kneel for the moment, turning so his arse is pointed towards the doctor and his knees are slightly spread.

“Now then, the preparation for this is just about the same as the preparation for being penetrated. Use lube to make things easier, it is always best to use extra,” the doctor murmurs as he squeezes some onto his fingers, “Carefully work your hole open, do not force it,” the doctor does as he says, using two fingers to rub it into the area around his hole before a single thick digit slips and sets to working him open.

He finds himself getting hard much to his shock, not sure if he should ignore it or not.

He is startled when the doctor presses against his back, head next to his while breathing into his ear, “Do you want me to take care of that for you or would you prefer to ignore it?” the entire time the doctor is speaking, he is still working his fingers in and out of his ass.

“I don’t know…” his voice breaks as he answers, he is ashamed of the fact that he does not know whether he should or not, this is one of those moment he is sure the doctor will give up on him so he is surprised by the gentle chuckle that is not cruel.

“I think I will since you are unsure,” the blonde remarks as he pulls his fingers from his ass, “The nice thing about these particular plugs is the fact this longer one is almost the size of a cock, but is designed to press against the hot spots, but we are not using that one for now. Instead we will use your choice.”

The next thing he knows something cool and moist is working its way in, it feels unnatural and part of him is nervous about it. Closing his eye he remembers how his brother had turned over his entire pleasure and he had wanted to try the same, now would be a perfect time to do so. With that in mind he nods once, willing his body to relax and merely listen to the soothing sound of John low voice as he sets to describing what he is doing. When the entire plug is in his ass he feels a bit full. However the full feeling does not last as the doctor slowly pulls it out, changing the angle partly before pushing it back in. This time it brushes his prostate, sending a jolt through his system. Over the next several minutes this is repeated several times until he is just about begging for release. One of his lover’s blunt fingered hands comes around his body to take hold of him and stroke him in time with the penetration of the toy.

“Jawn!” he ends up crying out when his release hits, making him see spots.

“Shhhh, relax,” the doctor murmurs as he pushes the plug in one last time and lets go with it firmly in place, though he changed the angle so it would not be constantly bumping his prostate. Gentle hands stroke his body in a soothing action as he comes down from the high of it all.

Once his breathing has returned to normal, or close to he fetches a warm, moist flannel and cleans him up. “There you go, it is in place, I would not suggest using it for really long times right off but you can use it for a bit.”

Sleepily he stretches out on the bed and mumbles, “Thank you John,” as he drifts off to sleep, the smaller man’s hands still touching his skin.


	10. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [ JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Again, lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for chattering with me while I was writing this and being my sounding board when I am at a wall

_Mycroft’s POV_

For the last four days he has been dealing with a crisis that could have been avoid if just one person in the group had used their brain before he had to be called in to clean up their mess. He had texted John to tell him he was unsure when he was going to be home, and his lover had responded like normal, telling him to stay safe, that he will see him when he is done. Then there had only been the occasional message from him. That was normal for when he was gone but it still made him worry and by time he finally could go home he was wondering if he had a home, just about in a panic.

Biting his lip, he uses his key to open the front door and slips in silently, upon entering the flat he stops dead, his sense of smell telling him it is his favorite dinner being made. A small, relieved smile curves his lips, as he tiredly makes it up the stairs.

Upon getting to the top he is confronted by his brother standing there with an uncertain look on his face. “I am supposed to tell you to get changed, your sleeping outfits laid out on the bed upstairs.”

His eyes narrow slightly as he nods, normally John would have been the one to meet him at the door. Maybe this was the doctor’s way of incorporating his brother into the mix? If so why is his sleeping clothes in the upstairs room instead of the downstairs room? Frowning slightly he nods, heading upstairs and into the bedroom. Within it he finds the outfit that had been laid out for him, but it is not one of his normal ones, for one thing it is far too soft of a material, and for another it is a dark blue and none of his current outfits are colored like that. He had taken a shower this morning in the office so he does not feel grimy.

He smiles softly as his fingers run over the material and he knows that this is from his brother, not the doctor. The material is so very soft. Stripping out of his suit, he carefully lays it out on the bed more from habit than anything before slipping the new sleeping clothes on and appreciating the slide of the material.

Heading downstairs, he enters the living room and pauses, tilting his head as he notices that the lights are all on the dim side and the flat smells deliciously of dinner.

“Go ahead and sit down,” he hears from the door way, turning to spot the blonde entering the room with a tray of food.

He smiles, settling on the sofa and humming happily when the smaller man settles on the sofa next to him.

“Dinner time love,” the doctor tells him, “I’ve already had an accounting of what you haven’t eaten in the last four days from your assistant.”

He flushes, ducking his head a bit, there are times he really considers firing his assistant though he never will because of how useful she is. Still, did she have to rat him out? “Alright,” he murmurs softly.

“Budge over,” he hears from beside him as his brother just about lands on him by the arm of the sofa.

He scoots over as much as he can, finding himself pressed between the two warm bodies.

With a look of concentration his brother selects a bite with his fork before offering it to him, a hesitant expression in his eyes as if he is not sure it will be accepted. That expression strikes at his core, making him realize he is not the only one who feels uncertain of his welcome or want. Maybe this could work.

Carefully he takes the bite of food, accepting it and the edginess of their budding relationship. There is a type of tension in the air that nearly makes him breathless. Smiling, the doctor takes a bite before offering a one to his brother. Over the hour the three of them take turns feeding each other. Some of the bites are playful and flirty, other bites are gentle and affectionate.

When they are done feed each other, the doctor cleans up the dishes while he brother presses closer to his side, his dark head tentatively on his shoulder.

Slowly he wraps an arm around the younger man. He is too tired to consider anything else. It has been thirty six hours since his last nap, at the moment he is running on pure adrenaline.

“Come on you, time for bed,” the doctor murmurs as he comes back to the sofa. Offering him a hand, he accepts, and a moment later the doctor does the same with his brother who is staying a bit closer than he is used to. “I’ve discovered he is an octopus, he latches on and does not like to let go,” the blonde tells him with a playful smile.

His brother blushes slightly but shrugs and stays close as they head to the larger bedroom.

Within the room he is mildly surprised to see that it has been slightly changed around, there is now an extra dresser and a wardrobe. Despite the addition of the new furniture, it is still open spaced for easy moving around.

“I was thinking we can make John’s old room into a retreat or office for you, the wardrobe and dresser is yours, as is the second half of that closet.” His brother states as he waves his hand towards the second closet.

“I hadn’t…” his voice trails off, shocked that is brother had gone through so much trouble.

“Come on boys, we can discuss this in the morning, the both of you are swaying,” the doctor suggests as he gently pushes them towards the bed.

Nodding, his brother clamors onto the bed first before pulling him down so he is in the middle. This does not surprise him since he knows that the doctor prefers to be on the outside edge closest to the door. Even when it was just the two of them the doctor was like that, which meant his gun was probably stashed in the table beside the bed along with the lube and the cock rings. Almost as soon as the lights are off and the blonde has joined them, he finds himself falling asleep.

He awakes several hours later to his brother crawling off the end of the bed and silently leaving the room. His ears pick up the sound of him in the bathroom before he hears him coming back. Beside him he can feel the doctor stirring, coming from sleepiness to wakefulness with a speed that makes him jealous some times.

Drifting back off to sleep, he is awakened by his brother sprawling in the space between his slightly parted legs, carefully pushing them just a bit further apart so that he can fit. Without removing any of his clothing, the younger man stroking his body gently, just touching him with care and affection. There is nothing sexual about the contact. Despite that, the touches are deeply moving, making him want to touch back in a way he had only ever felt with John previously. It is confusing and wonderful and just a bit scary.

Glancing over, he notices that the blonde is simply watching them with a small, encouraging smile.

Tentatively, he lifts a hand to stroke down his brother’s back, slightly startled when he notices that there are no longer any wrappings beneath the thin tee-shirt. Like his brother, the contact is not sexual, merely comforting. Slowly his brother makes his way up before curling to his side, inserting himself between himself and the blonde reaching behind him blindly to pull the soldier close. He is still slowly stroking a hand down the area between back and side carefully.

Eventually the three of them drift back off to sleep, though for not as long the second time.

When he wakes up for a second time it is with an urge to use the restroom, un-attaching his brother takes a few minutes because the younger man does not want to let go.

When he get's out of the bathroom the blonde is in the kitchen cooking breakfast, his brother is seated at the table being quiet.

"Morning Myt," the doctor comments as he finishes making a cup of tea.

"Good morning John, Sherlock," he replies, accepting the cup of tea offered to him.

"Sleep well?" the shortest of their number inquires with a glance towards him.

He nods, sipping at his tea.

Silence falls between the three with the only noise in the flat being the sound of the cooking food and the doctor’s moving around. After fetching his phone from the bedroom, he checks his messages and smiles at the one from his PA.

-Have a good day off. See you in the morning. Get some rest.-A

"It appears I have been evicted from my own office," he remarks with a smirk.

"Good," his brother comments, "We should finish arranging for you to move. Yesterday we shifted everything around in the flat so there will be room for you. The entire wardrobe and the second dresser are for you, plus John's only using half his closet. He said you can use the other half. We also moved the upstairs bedroom around a bit so that you could put a desk in there if you would like and use it as an office.”

He blinks at his brother, mildly surprised he had put so much effort forward. Of course his brother’s arm is still in the splint so the doctor is probably the one who did the most work.

Glancing over at the blonde he studies the smaller man as he starts making plates, putting a few small sausages, two slices of toast, an egg a piece, and some fruit on each before setting them in front of them.

"Orange juice or milk?" the doctor queries as he pulls cups out of the cupboard.

"Milk please," he answers.

At the same time as his brother states, "Orange juice, if you insist."

Smiling, the blonde pours each before pouring himself orange juice as well. Settling at the table, he joins them in eating.

After breakfast he joins the doctor in cleaning up.

Just as they finish cleaning up Sherlock states quite clearly, "I would like to spend today in bed once we have finished the moving plans."

He blushes at his brother’s bluntness. A bit shocked by it. At the same time he is curious, sort of desiring to do the same so that he could explore the dark-haired man since he had been more of a passive participant last time. Of course last time he had been trying to come to grips with the face he was about to have sex with his brother, even if it was also sex with love.

Grabbing his phone, he calls his assistant, asking her to arrange tor movers to bring his clothing, desk, book shelves, books, and computer set up over. They can have it done by this afternoon.

"What shall we do until they are done moving the items?" he queries of the other two.

His brother dramatically sighs, heading into the living room to sprawl on the sofa.

The blonde smiles at him, remarking softly, "He is actually excited but worried too that he is going to do something wrong. He is also concerned that the longer between now and then, the less likely you will be willing to go with his plan."

He sighs, nodding once in understanding.

"Let’s go listen to some music and relax on the sofa," the blonde suggests as he wraps his arms loosely around his shoulders in a light hug, his hand resting right above the tags once more.

He lifts his hand, covering the smaller one against his chest before lifting it to gently kiss the knuckles.

Letting go of his lover’s hand, he nods and turns to the living room, heading to sofa, where he taps on his brother’s shoulder. Sitting up for a moment his brother gives him a curious look as he settles onto the sofa, and gently pulls the younger man backwards so his head is resting on his thigh while his fingers gently card through his brother’s hair. If his brother is anything like him, he will enjoy the contact.

After turning on the music, soft classical music that he knows is for him and his brother more than for the doctor who prefers newer music, the smaller man settles on the arm of the sofa, gently rubbing the back of his neck with his thumbs.

“Woohoo! John, I’m home!” the landlady calls out as she makes her way up the steps.

His brother automatically sits up before standing and moving to be in front of the window, taking a position almost where he used to always play. He can see his brothers fingers twitch as if he wants to play but he does not, selecting instead to wait. Part of him is surprised by the fact the doctor does not move, staying right where he is rubbing his neck. They had never told the older woman of their relationship and he was not sure this was the best time to do so but he trusted the doctor’s judgment.

“I had a lovely time with the family. It ended up being a small reunion. You’ve been taking of yourself I hope?” the older woman babbles as she enters the room from the landing, she stops dead in her tracks her voice failing her as she takes notice of his brother and whispers, “Sherlock?”

His brother turns, a smile curving his lips though it does not reach his eyes, “Hello Mrs. Hudson,” he comments, his voice a deep rumble.

For a woman in her shape, she moves awful quickly across the room, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace making his brother flinch from the sudden contact. She notices the flinch and let’s go with a questioning look.

“He has a few broken ribs,” the doctor responds from his spot beside him.

“Oh! So sorry dear, I have to unpack but I expect you to tell me all about how you did that.” She informs him with bright eyes, eyes close to tears. Turning, she looks at him, and for the first time in two years it’s not a look of disappointment or anger. “Hello Mycroft,” she simply states as she continues back to the stairs.

“Mrs. Hudson,” his brother states clearly, catching her attention as she goes through the door to the landing.

Turning she inquires, “Yes?”

“Mycroft will be staying with us, I have insisted on it.” his brother announces.

She makes a questioning noise, “Why?”

“Because I have insisted on it,” he replies, not feeling the need to say more.

Turning his head slightly to watch her, he sees as she notices them on the sofa, John’s hand still gently rubbing his neck without breaking away as the smaller man smiles at her.

“Oh,” she murmurs, “I figured on the wrong brother,” she mutters as she turns and leaves, "Still I was right, not straight."

The blonde chuckles softly as he mutters, “Not gay still straight with a side order of sapio for my two boys.”

For a few minutes after the landlady leaves his brother paces before returning to the sofa. He drops back down so his head is pressed against his leg and stomach, one hand curling around his side. Smiling slightly, he returns to carding his brother’s curls.

He does not pay attention to how long they are like that he only knows that when his assistant calls to tell him that the movers will be there shortly that his brother sits up and the doctor sets to making tea. Not five minutes later there is a knock at the door, which Mrs. Hudson answers before he has a chance to his assistant standing there with a small group of movers.

“Hello,” he hears his PA state in that sing-song polite tone of her.

“Oh, hello, dear,” he hears the older woman greet his assistant before yelling up the steps, “Sherlock we are going to have a talk.”

Over the next half hours the team quickly brings everything in, though he does not have them unpack anything except his computer and hang his suits. Once they are done, with that all of the movers file out silently, his PA not far behind.

Pausing at the door the dark-haired woman states, “Do make sure he relaxes,” her attention is on the doctor with a mischievous smile.

“Of course, that’s the agenda for the rest of the day, shoo and lock the door behind you,” the blonde replies in the same tone of voice as if they are speaking of medical problems.

She bobs her head once before doing just as directed.

“You’ve corrupted my assistant,” he remarks as he looks over at the shorter man.

The mischievous smile on his face he shrugs, as if to say ‘so?’.

“Cuddling and exploring now?” his brother demands, heading towards the main bedroom without waiting for an answer.

Chuckling, the doctor remarks, “I believe someone is impatient.”

“I do believe you’re right,” he responds with a twitch of his lips. As he stands to head into the bedroom after making a quick stop in the bathroom, he reflects on the fact that he has felt more at peace in the last twelve hours than he has in a long time. That the sassy blonde makes him smile far more than he knew he could.

In the bedroom he is not surprised to see the speed in which his brother has stripped off his clothing and is standing there impatiently, his good hand on his hip as he taps his foot.

“Calm down Sherlock,” the doctor orders softly and he watches as his brother visibly forces himself to do so, though not all the way according to the fact that he prances between his feet.

For a minute he debates about removing his clothing or allowing one of them to do so. He sends a questioning look at the doctor who has removed everything except his pants and settled onto the head of the bed, watching them with a small smile on his lips.

“Sherlock,” he states calmly, turning towards his brother who is watching him with hopeful eyes.

Edging closer to him, his brother’s fingers twitch slightly as if he wants to reach for him. Locking eyes with the younger man, he slowly nods once. Almost before he is done, his brother is there. His long, slender fingers carefully stroking over the material before he sets to unbuttoning his shirt carefully. While his brother does that, he reaches out to run his knuckles across the prominent collarbone, a small frown curving his lips at how thin he is. The blonde is right. His brother needs to eat more.

A soft moan escapes his brother as he continues to trace the bone structure, following his collarbone to his shoulder before travelling back towards his neck, cupping the back of it gently and pulling him just a bit further forward so that they can just barely kiss.

His brother’s hands still as he traces his tongue across the seam of his lips, waiting patiently for him to open his mouth just the slightest. When his brother gasps softly, he tugs him a bit closer, tongue slipping between his lips to trace along his teeth before softly stroking his brothers tongue. His brother’s hands curl into his shirt, holding him close as they continue to kiss. There is a familiar yet different taste to his brother.

Slowly, his brother’s hands return to unfastening his sleeping shirt before sliding under it to run up his chest while they keep softly kissing. It seems to be grounding his brother, the kissing, and he is finding it rather enjoyable as well. Gently, the dark-haired man pushes his shirt from his shoulders, down his arms and off hand following behind it in order to touch every inch of skin. His own hands are busy learning the feel of his brother’s sides, back, and chest.

At one point he turns them, walking them to the bed where he pushes the slender man backwards so he sprawls on the bed. There is a light gasp from him as his back makes contact with the bed and for a moment he feels bad about it, he had not meant to harm him. That was not the goal.

“Breath Myt,” the blonde murmurs as he continues to watch, still just observing rather than participating.

He slows his breathing intentionally, realizing that it had speed up in an unpleasant manner when he realized he had accidently hurt his brother. Giving a small shake of his head, he climbs up on the bed after him, kneeling between his legs and lifting his brother’s left leg to gently kiss up it, alternating between sucking gently on the flesh and nibbling as he works his way up his calf to his knee before continuing on his way further up. Just before he reaches his brother’s groin, he switches his attention and administrations to the other leg, repeating the process.

Once he has explored both legs, he continues to kiss and touch as he bypasses his brother’s cock, not paying any attention to it. Slowly he explores every inch of his brother’s flat chest, tracing the muscles and bone, learning which spots make him beg, arch, groan, giggle, or flinch. He discovers that the same things that make his nipples feel good are the same that affect his brother, and that he has a particularly delicate spot on the side of his rib cage that makes him whimper and shiver in need.

When he gets to his brother neck, he sucks on it for a bit but is not sure what else to do.

As his expression turns questioning the doctor moves from where he was settled to directly behind him, hands gentle against his as he questions against the rim of his ear, “Not sure what to do next?”

He nods, a hot flush spreading across his skin, sitting on his knees like this leaves him far to open to being seen and touched. While he is used to the blonde, he is not used to his brother, and he is still worried that he is fat.

The doctor runs his tongue along the outer shell of his ear before suggesting, “Would you prefer orders or suggestions?”

Groaning softly, he presses back against his smaller lover, enjoying the muscles pressed against his skin. He is still wearing his sleeping bottoms and pants but he can feel the heavy press of the blonde anyways, making him wish that he was being sunk into. “Orders,” he moans in reply as the blonde nibbles at the back of his neck.

“Taste him Myt, explore him like you would me,” the doctor directs scooting back a bit so he has space to do the same.

He edges backwards to do as directed, hands skimming over the slender man’s chest as he does so, his brother is not nearly as quiet as he is. Allowing far more noises to escape from his bow shaped lips. The noises he appreciates the most are the keening moans that comes from him every time he gets a particularly sensitive spot. Once he is settled between his brother’s legs again, he changes his positioning so that he can explore his brother’s groin in detail.

The doctor withdraws back to where he had originally been seated, returning to watching them.

His brother has a musky scent that differs from the blondes when he gets close before he starts to nose at the tight dark coarse curls. From there he focuses on memorizing the scent, enjoying how he reacts to his nose running the length of his cock, down to his balls before moving further down. When he is done with that he flickers his tongue out, just barely touching his brother’s cock.

Above him he can hear his brother gasping, his breath coming in short, harsh pants, his slender hips jerking beneath his touch in need. A moment later the doctor is there beside him, holding his brother’s hips with one hand and arm while stroking him gently with the other. It is very similar to their first night, only in reverse with his brother being the one being touched, and a lot louder for that matter. His brother is far more responsive than he is as well.

For the next several minutes he spends his time licking and swirling his tongue around his brother’s girth, mentally comparing him to the doctor and noting the differences in taste, texture, and build.

“My-cro-ft!” his brother gasps out as he runs the flat of his tongue across the tip of it before tracing the slit. Smirking, he sucks on the top of it while his hands gently play with his brother’s bollocks, getting a feel for their weight and responsiveness. Eventually he just about swallows his brother whole taking most of him down his throat and sucking hard causing the younger man to start begging.

To his surprise the doctor smiles at him, instructing, “Make him come Myt.”

He bobs his head once, changing positioning slightly so that he can take just a bit more of his brother down his throat. His hands changing their purpose from learning about his brother’s reactions to intentionally causing the younger man writhe in need. Within minutes he can feel his brother’s balls rising up and tightening, taste the semen dripping as he gets closer. It is a bitter taste but different from that of his other lovers. With one last hard suck, he has the slender man coming with a shout, his semen coating his throat as he carefully swallows it all.

Slowly he withdraws as he feels his brother’s orgasm come to an end.

Sitting back he glances at the doctor, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Not done yet, I discovered while you were gone with work that this one recovers far faster than either of us. Not surprising since he is five years younger than me, and seven years younger than you.” As he is speaking the doctor’s hands are still stroking his brother gently, not a bit of his touch has been designed to bring arousal today so far.

He swallows hard, both curious and ashamed about the fact he would like to bury himself in his brother’s ass while he is coming. He wants to see if it feels any different from when he comes in John. A part of his mind shies away from the fact he does find his brother desirable, that all he wants to do is claim his brother, touch him, kiss him, suck him, and fuck him until he wants no one else to do so except for John. With John he is willing to share, particularly since he adores the feeling of the shorter man buried inside him. Why did not it seem like his brother was not ashamed of this while he was? Shaking his head slightly he looks back at the doctor for further instruction, to get past his embarrassment and shame.

“Come here Myt,” the doctor orders softly, motioning to the spot next to him.

He nods quickly moving to do as directed, gaze flickering between the two as he waits to see what is next. Most people would be amazed by the fact the very controlling Mycroft Holmes hands over all control in the bedroom, leaving it in his more than capable John’s hands.

With one hand still on his brother’s chest, the doctor lifts his other hand to his jaw. Bringing his face around to the blonde so that the smaller man can kiss him long and slow, at his sides his hands twitch as he tries to determine if he should reach out and touch and who he would touch. Instead he shuts his eyes, submitting to the pleasure of the kiss as the blonde traces his lips, teeth, tongue, and the ticklish spot on the top of his mouth.

Groaning, he sways towards the smaller man, eyes closing as his hands coming up to hold the blondes hips as he pushes against him.

When the doctor stops kissing him, his eyes slowly open watching to watch him and wait.

Leaning forward so that his lips are against his ear, the blonde breaths against his ear, “Prepare him, use your mouth and hands.”

He nods, eyes dilating further from the feel of it, the idea making his pulse race and his cock thicken. It is almost painful how hard he is, but he continues to ignore it, his focus being on his brother and the doctor instead. Quickly he returns to the spot between his brothers legs, only difference is this time he lifts his brother’s legs, settling them on his shoulders so that he is spread before him. His eyes widen when he spots the small black plug and he swallows hard. Carefully, he pulls his brother’s cheeks apart and using two fingers to carefully work it out which causes the younger man to moan and try to arch.

“My-cro-ft, Jawn, please!” his brother keens as he starts to touch him, finger tips only lightly tracing around his hole.

Absently he reaches for the lube, only to have the blonde place the bottle on his hand. Bringing it over to his other hand, he sets it beside his brother’s leg before he leans down, pulling his cheeks apart and running his tongue from the bottom of his brother’s cock, gently sucking on each of his balls, before continuing to run his tongue further up the crack and around the slightly loosened hole. For the next several minutes he dedicates himself to licking and sucking on him. He continues to do that until he is fairly loose, occasionally slipping his tongue inside him to press on the tight muscles.

Above him his brother seems to be coming back to life, the lethargy he had noticed earlier in his brother is gone, replaced by a very vibrant awareness and desire, his cock hardening and his balls growing heavy.

When he is certain he is loose enough, he grabs that lube he had placed beside him to coat his fingers, searching for and brushing his finger tips against his brother’s prostate.

Sitting up slowly he stares at his brother, enthralled by the flush that colors his brother’s pale skin. The doctor is still holding his brother still and he realizes that his hands were tied at some point to the headboard which makes him swallow again. Though his broken wrist is actually bound to the hand tied to the headboard. In all of the times he had made love to the doctor, not once had he had him bind his hands.

“He couldn’t keep them still, so I helped a bit,” the blonde remarks with a slightly predator smile.

He nods glancing back down at where he has three of his fingers buried in his brother’s ass before looking back at the doctor. He is curious if the smaller man is going to encourage him to fuck him, or plans to do it himself.

“If he is ready, penetrate him,” the doctor instructs him as his hands glide up his brother’s chest before gliding back down to his hips again.

Uncertainty fills him as he considers the fact that this is his brother. He wants this at the same time he is having a hard time bring himself to actually do so. It is the shame and embarrassment making it difficult for him.

Apparently noticing his hesitation, the blond moves behind him, smaller hands holding his hips as he breaths against his ear, “Do you want this to happen?”

Closing his eyes against the erotic sight before him he nods once, his skin flushing.

“Aloud Mycroft,” the blonde orders, tongue running along the edge of his ear before gently nipping at it.

“I…yes…” he answers huskily.

He can feel the smile against his head, “Then trust me, there is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed of here.”

“Please Mycroft,” his brother keens between the various needy noises escaping his mouth.

Opening his eyes, he shimmies his bottoms and pants off, nodding once while using one hand to line his brother’s hole up with his cock before he started to slowly work himself inside the tight warmth. While similar to the blonde it also feels incredibly different. Slowly he works himself all the way in before pulling back and gliding forward. Since his brother’s legs are still hooked on his shoulders he is pressing all the way inside him, burying himself to the balls and hitting the younger man’s prostate with every thrust.

“May I?” the blonde asks again his ear, one hand on his hip, the other playing with his hole.

“Oh yes,” he breaths in response, spreading his legs slightly and arching his back. It actually changes how he is entering his brother slightly, making it feel just a bit tighter and causing him to gasp from the new pressure.

He can feel John’s fingers quickly and effectively working him open, preparing him. As soon as the blonde feels he is ready, the smaller man presses in, and he moans at the full feeling. The combination of having his brother on his cock and the doctor buried in his ass pushes him over the edge, and with a shout he is coming inside his brother. The doctor wraps one arm around his waist to hold him against his chest as he continues to move within him, while his other arm reaches around to palm his brother in time. Within a few thrusts the blonde is groaning against the back of his neck while coming inside him, his brother is coming for a second time, this time coating the doctors hand and getting some on both of their chests because of positioning.

Afterwards John carefully removes himself from his ass before helping him to scoot back and pull out of his brother. He is feeling boneless as he sprawls beside his brother. Head on his shoulder, and while he considers reaching up to untie him, he’s feeling too sleepy and will leave it to the doctor. A few minutes later the blonde is cleaning them up before gently releasing his brother, rubbing his arms and shoulders to work any kinks that might have formed due to having his arms bound out before laying down on the outside of the bed, putting Sherlock in the middle and pulling a blanket up over them.

As he drifts off to sleep he thinks that this is what home feels like: belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope everyone enjoyed the story of how the three boys became a unit together. Now back to some of my other writings


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